


We Are One

by Rhymefire



Series: We Are One [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, M/M, More Angst than originally intended, Past Abuse, Romance, Spirits, abomination!inquisitor, but it's too late now, possessed!inquisitor, so we have to deal with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 01:58:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18768856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhymefire/pseuds/Rhymefire
Summary: Once Simon Trevelyan brings the mages back from Redcliffe, he realizes that the members of his previous circle will begin spreading all the vicious rumours about him being possessed again. The problem with this? The rumours are true.





	1. Compassion

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by lavellanpls' amazing story ["Homecoming."](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5093510/chapters/11713439) If you haven't read that, you need to drop everything and read it right now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon discovers the problems that crop up when you've brought several hundred mages to a small village in the mountains.

In the long column of newly-freed mages, there was no real organization. The children ran haphazardly up and down the sides. The Tranquil followed placidly. The only consensus to any sort of order was that the Herald of Andraste and his companions rode at the head. The bad thing about this was that it made Simon look far more important than he actually was. The good thing about it was that it made it easy to hide the faintly poleaxed look that he wore. He certainly felt as though he’d been poleaxed. Simon stretched out with his mind, just to make sure the spirit of Valour he’d befriended was still in contact with him.

That might have been a mistake. At his mental touch, the spirit said, _:Describe the battle again.:_

Carefully, he supressed a sigh. Over the years he had gotten very good at having conversations in his head while keeping a poker face. He’d told Valour about everything just as soon as he and Dorian had stepped back into their own time, but Simon would gladly tell the story over and over if it meant that he could keep the spirit’s attention on him _. :The portal took us into the dungeon, where we were attacked by two men.:_

Simon left out the part before that, when he’d reached for Valour and realized that whatever freakish magic Alexius had used had disrupted the bindings between him and Valour. He could feel the spirit’s presence there, but he couldn’t reach it. It was as though a wall had sprung up between them. He’d clutched at Dorian in reeling terror screaming, “He’s not there. I don’t understand. How is this possible?” It had not been his finest moment. If he was being honest, momentarily losing that connection to his best friend had shaken him more than that horrible future he’d seen. He had only snapped out of it when Dorian pried his hands off and sworn to protect him. And he had only done that by sucking in a breath and laughing thinly, which probably hadn’t been very encouraging for poor Dorian at the time.

Simon tried to casually glance at the Tevinter riding beside him. Dorian was already looking at him. Simon snapped his head forward before he could look too closely at his expression. It was entirely possible that he thought he was crazy.

 _:You were to tell me of the battle.:_ Valour prodded at him mentally.

_:Right. Which part would you like to hear? The battle with Alexsius?:_

The spirit did. In excruciating detail.

 

Arriving in Haven was certainly an experience. Simon nearly fell off his horse when he saw that his advisors stood in front of the gates. He moved towards them and halted. They did not look very happy.

Dorian smiled and dismounted. He tossed the reigns to the nearest mage, who looked at him as though personally offended by this. “Are those your trusted advisors?”

Simon couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He seemed amused at something. “Yes. Can you come with me? I need to explain about that weird time travel and I don’t know if they’ll believe me.”

Dorian chuckled and waved him forward. “Lead the way.”

Simon scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. They approached the advisors together. They managed to look even less pleased about this. Simon gestured at the new tents that had been set up for the mages. “Wow, you guys did a great job. Looks like we’re closer to closing that Breach what with all these mages.”

Cullen gaped openly at the column. “Maker, how many are there?”

Josie coughed delicately. “You did a very good job, Herald. Might we take this discussion into the war room?”

Simon nodded. Dorian extremely close to him for some reason that Simon didn’t want to expend any energy towards finding. He was tired. And cold. And all of his muscles had managed to bunch together into wiry balls of tension.

Cullen gave Dorian a frustrated glare when he amiably trailed after them, but Simon pretended not to notice. It was important to pick your battles.

After confirming that Dorian was officially joining what his advisors had dubbed ‘the inner circle,’ he tried to bring the Tevinter into the war room. Cullen scowled.

“I thought,” Simon said uncertainly, “that you would want confirmation about the time travel from someone else there.”

Josie’s eyes went wide and she shook her head. “Of course not, Herald. We trust your word completely.”

Dorian smiled and pushed him forward a bit. “Yes, I think I’ll opt out of the war council. Do enjoy yourselves without me.”

 

Simon eased the cabin door shut and leaned his head against it. The ruined cabin in the woods by Haven was quickly becoming his absolute favourite place in the entire country. He thumped his fist against the rough wood. A splinter stabbed into his finger.

Simon sighed and plucked it out. Of course. One of the great reasons about having a wreck in the middle of the woods was that he could take advantage of the privacy it offered to speak aloud to Valour. That was one of the great things about being out of the Circles. He could talk aloud to Valour anytime he wanted provided that nobody else was there to yell ‘abomination’ and run him through with a pitchfork.

“I thought,” he said, “that everything would be okay after we got the mages.”

_:Are things not satisfactory?:_

“No. They’re not. They’re going to shit. Cassandra’s stupid Inquisition is falling apart at the seams. The mages are angry because there are templars around. The templars think we’re all going to go crazy. Sera is mad because she thinks things are getting too spooky or something. I don’t even know. Cassandra’s mad because everyone is complaining to her instead of coming right to me so I can actually deal with their problems. The Iron Bull’s got that weird spy look going on and I can’t imagine Krem is happy that there’s an altus or magister or whatever here. And don’t even get me started on Vivienne!”

He threw his hands up in the air. Somewhere in all this, he had started pacing and yelling. “She thinks we should all be stuck in Circles again. She thinks we should train templars here. She thinks a whole lot of things! She thinks she’s fooling everyone with her whole, ‘oh, I didn’t join a fraternity’ act when she’s the most obnoxious loyalist I’ve ever met! All she cares about is power, but we have to have her here so that Josie can weaponize her against Orlais or something. I don’t understand where everything is going wrong!”

_:I do not understand. None of these mortal follies will stop us from closing the Breach.:_

Simon huffed. “Well, they’re not helping. They’re just making everything worse.”

_:Does this truly matter?:_

“Yes. If everyone gets upset, they could leave. You know, because I made the mages our full allies. Which is another thing people are mad about.”

He felt the spirit’s scorn wash through him. _:It would be dishonourable to abandon this quest. We shall carry onwards until the breach is sealed!:_

Simon couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. I guess.” He collapsed onto the bed in the corner. The wooden frame snapped. He couldn’t be bothered to move. Before Haven, he had been sleeping in caves. This was fine. “I’m sorry for being weird about this. You’re right and it’s all okay as long as we get the Breach sealed. I just need to think. A lot’s happened and I feel completely out of control.”

_:The true warrior will find a path to victory no matter the battlefield.:_

“Yeah. I guess.”

 

In the morning, he pulled out a scrap of parchment from one of his many pockets and scavenged a stick of charcoal from the burnt out fireplace. He lay on the floor and wrote a list. Lists were good. They always helped organize his thoughts.

  * make sure Harritt and Adan are dealing well with the Tranquil
  * find teachers for mage children and get classes started
  * check on mages helping in the infirmary



He stood up and held the list out. Simon had the horrible feeling that these three things would take him all day.

Simon left the cabin and slowly walked towards the field of tents outside Haven’s walls. Some of the mages weren’t happy about that. They complained to Cassandra about being pushed outside, but the fact of the matter was that there was no more room inside Haven. He slowed to a stop. He turned around and looked back at the abandoned cabin.

He loved the abandoned cabin. It was his sanctuary. But there were children among the mages. Had room been found for them inside Haven, or were they also sleeping outside? The horrible feeling in his stomach curled down into his gut. He pulled out his list again and added

  * talk to Josie about mage children staying in abandoned cabin



Could they hold lessons for the children in there, too? Or would it be better to do that outside just in case something caught fire? Should he be worried about the templars freaking out and throwing down a smite if they saw a group of mage children trying to practice during a lesson? It had happened in the tower sometimes during a lesson. Someone popped out a wobbly fireball, a templar got nervous and then the whole room was curled on the ground trying not to puke.

He took a steadying breath and started towards Harritt. He stopped by the rudimentary fence that roughly outlined the smithy. The blacksmith must have gotten up with the dawn. He looked like he’d been awake for hours. Some of the Tranquil were at work too. One shoveled coal into some metal machine. A few more were assembling focusing crystals. A cluster of them inscribed enchantments into equipment for the soldiers. They wouldn’t be permanent (they were saving what lyrium they had for the Breach), but that hardly mattered right now.

Simon smiled. That was good. That had been his idea, and it was great to see how quickly it had been implemented. Hopefully, it would help the soldiers feel more comfortable around the mages if they could hold solid proof that they were being helpful. Wasn’t Cullen beginning to teach the soldiers how to fight alongside the mages? He pulled out his list again and wrote

  * see how Cullen is doing with mage/soldier training



That was another reason the Tranquil were being extremely helpful by inscribing these temporary enchantments. The soldiers would be more comfortable practicing with mages if they had equipment to help protect them against magical effects.

He approached the Tranquil shoveling coal first. She said that they were being treated well and were helping organize supplies and enchant items. She was also very firm about the fact that those assigned to enchanting could not operate at peak efficiency without access to lyrium. Simon assured her that he was working on the lyrium problem.

“Hi, Harritt,” Simon said.

The blacksmith scowled at him. “What?”

He tried not to wince. Maybe the blacksmith just hated everyone. “I was just wondering how you’re doing with the Tranquil. They’re pretty good, right?”

The blacksmith made some odd shoulder movement that Simon translated as ‘I guess so, but they creep me out.’ He pulled out a piece of glowing metal and started hammering at it.

Simon nodded a bit nervously. “Okay. That’s good. I’m glad everything’s working out.”

He eased away from the smithy. Probably best not to bother him. He caught sight of The Iron Bull. He wasn’t sure about what the qunari would say to his request, but he had to ask anyways. It wasn’t about him. It was about the mages.

“Hi, The Iron Bull.”

The qunari beckoned him closer. Krem snorted something. “What’s up, boss?”

He took a breath and reminded himself that he could talk about magic openly now. Besides, this was pretty close to a lot of what he’d done back at the tower. He hadn’t been allowed to officially teach as a spirit healer, but every apprentice knew that if you could sneak away from lunch on certain days and go to a hidden corner of the library he would give out private healing lessons. As long as you didn’t tell the templars. “There are some mage children here now.” Bull grunted. Apparently he was extremely aware of the mage children. “I thought it would be a good idea to get some magic teachers together so they can keep learning. I mean, they have to learn somehow, right? I thought that Dalish might like to try teaching, but I’m not sure where she is.”

“Dalish does archery,” The Iron Bull said.

Simon blinked. Right. They were speaking in code. He should have expected that. They had called his private healing lessons ‘Simon’s reading circle’ back in the tower. “Right. She does archery. I’d like to ask her if she could give archery lessons to the archer children here. She probably knows lots of archery that we didn’t get to learn back in…. Um. Archer academy.” Simon had never been good at speaking in code, but that damn well wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

Bull slapped his back and the breath was knocked out of him. He tried not to cough too much. “Sure thing, Boss. I’ll see what she thinks about it.” Then he grinned and talked a bit about life here. Simon found himself nodding and trying to commit The Iron Bull’s thoughts to memory. He’d only read about qunari as savage, horrible beasts in the books at the tower. He’d always thought those books were full of crap. Apparently, he had been right.

Talking with The Iron Bull was refreshing in a way. He didn’t have to do much of the talking if he didn’t want to. Simon had always hung back in conversations, and before the Conclave he’d spent his time leading Tranquil through various war zones, which hadn’t really sharpened his conversation skills.

Simon had known exactly what they were talking about until the Bull looked him up and down and said, “Besides, they don’t have redheads back home. Mmm, redheads.” Krem snorted again and muttered under his breath.

Simon’s own hair was a dusty red, but that probably had nothing to do with whatever ‘redheads’ was code for. It must have been code for something. The only other option was that The Iron Bull was flirting with him and that was impossible. Some days, ‘Simon’s reading circle’ had actually been a reading circle just to confuse the templars and throw off suspicion. The Iron Bull watched him closely. It looked like he was trying not to laugh at something. Maybe ‘redheads’ was code for ‘mages that aren’t chained up and still have their tongues.’

He settled on, “Yes, there are lots of redheads here.” It was probably a neutral response to whatever The Iron Bull was trying to ask him. He really hated talking in code.

A hand clapped on his shoulder. He yelped loudly and whirled around. Dorian grinned at him. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He sounded far too be pleased for that to be true.

Maybe Dorian knew what the code was. “We were talking about redheads.”

The mage must have known what it meant because he rolled his eyes at Bull. “Well, I’m sure you must have thought that was very clever.”

Bull snickered. “You that Vint that took the boss into the future?”

Distantly, Simon knew that was a stupid question because there were no other Tevinters here. More immediately, he remembered Valour being gone. He swayed a bit closer to Dorian.

Dorian sniffed. “Well, on to more important matters.” He held up a book. “Simon, you never told me you were a scholar.” He sounded delighted.

The book he held out for inspection was ‘Tales of Clan Ghilain’ by Melwyn Ghilain and Simon Trevelyan. His stomach turned to ice. He forced out a reedy laugh. “Not really. I just helped with the translations. I told Melwyn not to put my name in, but she didn’t listen.” He hadn’t really expected her to. Melwyn had always done what she wanted. “I was going to check on her soon, actually. She’s working with Adan.”

“Really? Well, I would love to meet her.” Dorian led him away. Simon bit back the thought that no, he really wouldn’t like it.

The other mage looked him up and down. Simon was suddenly, painfully aware that he looked exactly like he had spent the night in a broken bed in a wrecked cabin in the middle of the woods. He tried to smile. Whatever Dorian was looking for, he appeared to have found it. He let go of Simon’s shoulder, which was a shame. For some reason, the mage exuded heat like a furnace. “Are you alright?” Dorian asked. “You were quite shaken after our little jaunt to the future.”

Right. That. Wait. What? It occurred to him that this was the first time someone had asked him that question. Everyone else had been very worried about what he’d seen, but not about him. He flushed and decided that he would absolutely not think about why. “Yes. I’m fine now. I just wasn’t expecting it.” His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. It could be very dangerous if Dorian started asking questions about his odd behaviour when he’d lost contact with Valour. The advisors and the inner circle knew that he was a spirit healer, but they didn’t know that he had such a close mental bond with a spirit. They didn’t know that he was an abomination. “Have you published anything?”

That was an excellent distraction. It turned out that Dorian had not only published a great many papers, but was happy to talk about them. Many of them were actually quite interesting. Simon took smaller steps so they would have more time before they reached the apothecary. He wished he could get his hands on some of Dorian’s papers.

When they opened the door to Adan’s cabin, Simon stood still in the doorway for a moment. There were a few Tranquil working here, but not as many as there should have been. Some people were missing.

Harritt had all of his assigned Tranquil in plain sight while they worked. Was Adan hiding a few in a cupboard somewhere?

He started with Clemence. Clemence had the most experience with alchemy and potions. He was also incredibly strong-willed for a Tranquil. If Adan was being a jerk, Clemence would tell him.

“Hi there,” Simon said. “How are things going?”

Clemence didn’t look at him. He ground herbs in a mortar. That was okay. Dorian stood slightly behind him. He seemed uncertain about something. Simon studied the other mage's expression carefully. He’d said earlier that they had Tranquil in Tevinter. Maybe Dorian hadn’t actually talked to them much. “The Tranquil can get very focused sometimes,” Simon told him.

“Quite.”

Simon decided to forget about Dorian and focus on Clemence. He tapped the Tranquil’s shoulder. That did get his attention, although he didn’t stop grinding the herbs. “Yes?” he said. “I am working.”

“I know you are. You’re doing a great job. Do you feel you are being useful?” Speaking to Tranquil was an awful lot like speaking to spirits in some ways. You had to phrase things very carefully or they wouldn’t understand.

“Yes. It is good to be useful. We have created many potions for the Inquisition.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Has Adan been treating the Tranquil well?”

“Yes, but he has sent some of us to gather elfroot in the woods near Haven.”

“What?” Simon snuck a glance at Adan. He was working on some foul-smelling mixture. He leaned closer to Clemence and lowered his voice. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll go fix it.”

The Tranquil didn’t say anything, but he might have ground his herbs a little harder. It was hard to tell.

Simon turned away from him and went right to the source. “Adan, have you sent some of the Tranquil to gather herbs?”

He scowled. “Sure. What about it? We need herbs. Seggrit’s not giving us anything at a fair price.”

Simon huffed. “I can’t do anything about Seggrit’s prices. He’s the only merchant in this place, so he can charge what he wants. If he gets mad and leaves things will be ten times worse. What exactly did you tell the Tranquil?”

“Maker, I told them to get some elfroot. Does it matter what I told them?”

“Yes.” Simon resisted the urge to stamp his foot. Obviously, he’d never worked with Tranquil before. “Tranquil are incredible at focusing, but only on one thing at a time and you have to give them exact instructions. Especially when you’re sending them somewhere. Did you tell them when to come back?”

“Calm down, Herald. I gave them baskets and said to come back when they were full.”

The beginnings of a headache started at his temples. “Don’t send the Tranquil to get things for you. Keep them in here where you can see them, alright? Send other people for that.”

“Who am I supposed to send? There’s nobody else.” A muscle worked in Adan’s jaw.

“I’ll get Josie to assign you some people for herb gathering.”

“Fine.”

“It is fine.” He turned to Dorian. “Come on, let’s go get them.”

After they left the apothecary’s cabin, Dorian caught his arm. “Not that that wasn’t terribly impressive, but is it really a problem to have Tranquil gathering herbs?”

Simon gritted his teeth and reminded himself that Dorian had probably never even spoken to a Tranquil before. “Yes. It is. They haven’t been outside for years. I’m not even sure they know how to gather herbs properly. At the tower, we’d get herbs shipped to us in crates.”

Dorian looked doubtful. Simon sighed. “I know I’m getting weird about it. It’s just that Tranquil don’t think the same way and Adan didn’t give them any detailed instructions. They’ll stay out all night looking for herbs if we let them. They won’t come back until the basket is full. They won’t see any logical reason to. They might be all, ‘we’re being useful so let’s stay out all night gathering herbs.’”

Dorian nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that. There were Tranquil back home, but we didn’t speak to them. It simply wasn’t done. I’ve never really thought about them before now.”

“A lot of people at the tower didn’t like to think about them either. Clemence is pretty tough for a Tranquil, you know. I wish I could’ve known him before. He’s like Melwyn.”

“What?” Dorian missed a step and stumbled a bit. “Your colleague Melwyn is Tranquil?”

“We wrote the book before. She was turned after.”

“For writing a book?” The mage sounded shocked.

Simon shrugged. Melwyn wasn’t something he wanted to talk about with anyone. But maybe he could trust Dorian with it. It was entirely possible that he would trust Dorian with lots of things just because he was there when Valour hadn’t been. Simon had already thought about this and decided that there was nothing he could do about it, so he might as well enjoy having a friend. “No. For a lot of reasons. She was Dalish before the templars got her and it showed. She was smart and powerful and she didn’t care about what other people thought. I’d try to reign her in, but she just laughed and said they’d already taken her away from her clan and she couldn’t imagine anything worse. She was really funny and laughed a lot, but I think she was hurting a lot inside, you know? And I couldn’t….”

He couldn’t heal mental pain. In the tower, he’d been able to deal with whatever physical pains the templars and mages inflicted but he’d never really been able to make things better. Things had been the same as always. Maybe Cassandra’s Inquisition could change things.

Simon gestured at the book. “It was just a lot of little things and that was the last straw. The book was kind of a fuck you to the templars. She was trying to send her clan a message.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes. And then, “What was the message?”

“You can’t break me.” His eyes prickled a bit. Salvation appeared in the shape of a Tranquil trying to pull some elfroot from the ground. “Look, there’s one.”

He rushed over and tapped the Tranquil on the shoulder. Apparently, the universe knew exactly how to fuck with him because it turned out to be Melwyn.

She blinked slowly and looked at him. “You can come back,” Simon told her. “Adan’s changed the orders. All Tranquil are supposed to stop picking herbs and go back to Adan. Do you know where the others are? How many of you are out here?”

She stood up, holding her basket close to her chest. “There are two others. I do not know where they are.”

“If we look for footprints,” Dorian said, “we should be able to find them faster.”

Simon watched the Tranquil start moving back to Haven before he nodded. “Was that her?” Dorian asked softly.

He nodded again. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, and he wasn’t sure what half of them were. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He plucked the book – for some reason, Dorian had taken it out to the woods with them – and put it in Melwyn’s basket. “Please put this back on the chantry bookshelf before you see Adan.”

In the time that it took to turn around and walk back to Dorian, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. The hollowed feeling in his gut had galvanized to an iron ball. Valour simmered in the forefront of his mind. “You don’t look when you’re casting spells.”

Dorian laughed. “Excuse me?”

“Everyone else here looks around for templars before they do anything. It’s a survival skill that we have to learn in the Circle, but you don’t have it. I want you to be more careful about it. The templars here are different than in Tevinter. They’re not just mercenaries and they’ll panic and smite you if you’re not careful. I really hope it doesn’t happen, but eventually it will.” He stepped closer to Dorian. The Tevinter exuded heat like a furnace. Even from a few inches away, he could feel the warmth on his skin. “You’re using a spell to keep warm right now and I bet you didn’t even think about it.”

Something in Dorian’s gaze changed. Simon felt as though the ball of tension had been replaced with fire. He didn’t think that was the warming spell. He didn’t know what it was. He didn’t have time to think about it right now. “I’m looking for teachers for the mage children here. I want you to be one of them.” Despite the roiling in his gut, his voice was quiet and steady.

“Are you sure you want the evil Vint near the children?”

“I want someone who isn’t afraid. Just once, I want them to learn from someone who isn’t afraid.” Valour wasn’t scared of anything, and he’d learned more about magic from the spirit than all his teachers combined. “I’ll be teaching them too.” He didn’t quite know why he added that, but it might have changed things.

Certainly some flicker of uncertainty in Dorian’s expression vanished at the words. “Well, I’m one of the best mages in the Imperium. It would be a shame to not pass some of my brilliance on.”

Simon nodded and stepped back. “Okay. Let’s go find the other Tranquil.”


	2. Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon names wisps and swoons like a heroine in a trashy romance novel.

Simon was cautiously optimistic about the fledgling school he was trying to put together. Honestly, it was good to be doing something. There would be nothing to do until the lyrium arrived. Until then, Haven would stay locked in this state of bated breath. He couldn’t wait until that damn Breach was closed.

He had done a good job gathering teachers so far, too. Dalish had skipped over to him earlier and told him that she would be happy to provide archery lessons whenever he wanted. Josie had agreed that the mage children could sleep in the abandoned cabin. There were twenty seven of them in total. It’d be a tight fit, but it was better than sleeping outside, right? They would have to split them into two groups so the students got enough attention each lesson.

Solas stood by his cabin, staring at the Breach. He appeared to be in deep thought. Simon smiled. He would probably be a great teacher and would be the easiest to convince. He’d saved the easiest conversation for last. Maybe Solas would even talk to him about spirits afterwards. He and Valour both loved listening to the clever apostate.

“Simon!” A slender girl ran into him with the force of a charging bull.

His hands flapped nervously about before he realized who it was. “Amalie?”

She looked up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It’s so good to see you again. Everyone was saying that it was you that was the Herald, but we didn’t know if it was true.” She released him. “Stay here, I’m gonna get Katja.” She darted off.

Simon had that poleaxed feeling again. This was something he had not anticipated. Unthinkingly, he leaned against the nearest cabin. He should have realized before now that bringing the mages back to Haven would also mean that the members of his old Circle would be here. The thought made him jittery with nerves. He had no reason to be afraid. They wouldn’t attack him or anything. It should have been a good thing to see them again.

He hadn’t really expected to see them again. He had taken a group of Tranquil and a few apprentices away with him when the Circles dissolved. The others had gone to join Fiona’s mage rebellion. He had thought that he would never see them again and he had been completely fine with that fact. It had been one of the good things about breaking away from them. He may have been wandering through warzones and the wilderness trying to provide enough food for a dozen or so people who weren’t necessarily very helpful when it came to that sort of thing, but he didn’t have to see anyone he didn’t want to. He didn’t have to worry about the old rumours.

Oh no. The rumours. He would have to tell Josie about that, otherwise she’d go unprepared to her next diplomatic meeting and be completely blindsided by someone asking, “So, exactly what kind of demons does the Herald of Andraste consort with?”

“Simon! I can’t believe it’s you.” Amalie and Katja stared at him, grinning widely.

“Yep. It’s me.”

Katja breathed a sigh of relief. “We thought you were going to die in the hills when you took some of the Tranquil away. We heard some guy called ‘Simon’ was running things, but we didn’t think it was you.”

Amalie nodded feverishly. “Lots of Simons around.” She poked him in the side. “Are you really starting the reading circle again? Can I come this time? I was never able to come earlier because of templars, but things are different now, right? Are they gonna be mad?”

Yes. Yes, they would be. “Nope. Everything’s fine.” It was good to see that gossip spread as quickly as it usually did. He was screwed. Completely screwed. The only consolation was that hopefully Josephine could stop Cassandra and Cullen from turning him Tranquil. And he might be able to put an argument together in case they tried anyways. Something tactical? How could he possibly lead a strike force to close rifts if he was Tranquil? Unless Cassandra said that she could do that instead. But she couldn’t close rifts for him. But if he was Tranquil, she could just order him to do it. But maybe the mark wouldn’t work well if he was-

_:Pay attention! These jabbering tiny people are speaking to you. Make them stop.:_

Simon snapped to attention. “Sorry. I was thinking.” He swallowed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yes, I’m starting the reading circle again, but it won’t be hidden this time. There’ll be some other teachers too. And it’s involuntary.”

Katja nodded.

“What does ‘involuntary’ mean?” Amalie said.

“It means that you have to come to class.”

Katja laughed and elbowed the other apprentice. “Yeah, or he’ll send demons after you!”

He winced. She’d said that far too loudly. “No, no no no. I don’t do anything with demons. There’s no summoning of any kind.”

Katja stamped her foot. “But everyone says that you know all about that stuff.”

Amalie nodded with all the wisdom her eight years gave her. “We don’t have to be scared anymore. Fiona said we could be real mages now that the Circles are gone. And back at the Circle everyone said that you were really good with demons and spirits and things. And you saved us from the Tevinters! Nobody cares about demon stuff anymore. We saw some mages when we were in the Hinterlands and they were doing a whole bunch of stuff with demons and they were real proud of it. Look, I’ll shout it out and nobody will care because you’re a hero.”

She inhaled deeply, chest expanding with the effort. Simon clapped a hand over her mouth. He remembered the real reason he had forbid Amalie from attending his reading circles. She was a fucking blabbermouth. “Let’s not start yelling about demons in the middle of a town, okay? Let’s play hide and seek instead. Want to do that?”

They nodded. “Okay,” he said. “You go and hide. I’ll shut my eyes and count to a hundred.”

He put his hands over his eyes and they darted off. He waited ten seconds and then went to talk to Solas instead.

He shuffled his feet a bit when the apostate raised a brow. Solas used his eyebrows like deadly weapons. “So, how much of that did you hear?” Simon asked.

“They’re very enthusiastic.” Solas crossed his arms. Apparently he did not approve of such enthusiasm. “So how good are you with ‘demons and spirits and things?’ She seemed to think you’re quite the expert.”

“Um.” Simon had never been very good at lying outright. It was half of why there had been so many damn rumours about him being possessed. Rumours that had apparently managed to follow him all the way to Haven. Damn it. “Well. I mean, she’s eight.”

There. Technically it wasn’t a lie. Solas tilted his head slightly. “Yes. She was.” When Simon opened his mouth, Solas held up a hand. “I won’t be teaching any classes.”

He deflated. “Why not?”

“In my experience, people are not usually very receptive.”

“That was with the Dalish. This is completely different. These people want to learn.” Solas gave him a look. “Most of them want to learn. Besides, you don’t have to teach any magic if you don’t want to. You could just talk about spirits and the Fade. You love doing that. You talked about spirits with me for six hours straight once. It’ll be just like that, but with more people.”

Solas’ lips tightened. “Herald, I’m not sure that what you’re doing is wise. Have you thought about how people will react to this?”

Oh, he had no idea. Simon tried his most charming smile. Solas did not appear to be impressed. “Josie thought it would be a good idea. Cullen said he’d allow it if he could put a few templars nearby while we do lessons. And it’ll cut down on potential abominations?” That last point had done the trick for Cullen.

The apostate smiled a little. “How could it possibly do that?”

“Um. Well.” Cullen hadn’t asked that. “Please?”

This well-thought out speech did not move Solas at all. He shook his head. “I haven’t the time to teach Circle mages anything.”

“All the teachers are taking turns. It wouldn’t be that much time. And we’ve got two people, three including me, so you’d only have to teach a class once every four days.”

Solas looked as though he pitied him. He furrowed his brow. “What will you be teaching them?”

“Healing magic and barriers. Maybe some spirit stuff.” He shrugged.

“Is that what you taught at the Circle?”

“They didn’t let me teach at the Circle. I mean, I did teach a few people, but in secret.” Damn it. He should have just said yes.

“Why wouldn’t they let you teach?”

Simon was starting to get the uncomfortable feeling that the apostate was searching for information of some kind and that he would keep asking questions until he was satisfied. Maybe once he was, he would agree to teach. “Could we talk inside or something? It’s cold out here.” There were also a lot of templars walking around.

The apostate nodded and led him into his cabin. He motioned for Simon to take a seat. Simon blinked a bit. Somehow, Solas had managed to get a table and two chairs in his cabin. His own cabin had an old bed and bunch of caged ravens. The ravens considered the cabin to be theirs and always squawked loudly at his intrusion whenever he dared to sleep there. If he hadn’t befriended a mangy cat he’d found in Haven to snarl at them until they shut up, he would never get any sleep.

He settled on the edge of the chair’s seat and tried to get his thoughts in order. Valour pushed to the forefront of his mind. That was hardly surprising. The spirit really liked Solas.

“Why,” Solas asked again, “wouldn’t they let you teach?”

Because there were rumours that I was an abomination. “Just the usual things. You know, someone higher up doesn’t like you so they don’t let you teach.” Technically true.

“I see. Why else?”

“I don’t really know, Solas. The Circles weren’t known for making good choices, right?” He was starting to get really jittery now. “I just studied weird things. I liked reading about spirits and the Fade. The templars don’t really like it when you do that even though the books are right there on the shelves. They would keep track of who reads what.” Also he wasn’t careful enough when he first bonded with Valour and occasionally he would talk to him aloud in front of other people. Sometimes, he still slipped up.

“And I had thought that my opinion of Circles couldn’t possibly get any lower.”

“Yeah….”

“I am curious. Why are you teaching about spirits and healing? Were those your favourite topics?”

He nodded. “I like healing, so it was easier to learn.”

Solas raised a brow and leaned back slightly. “And that is what you taught in secret during your reading circles?”

“Um.” Apparently Solas really had heard the whole conversation with Amalie and Katja. He laughed a bit. It didn’t make him feel any better. “Yes. It was a sort of ‘fuck you’ to the templars, you know? Just a stupid, risky thing I did.” Also Valour had liked it. Valour had glowed with exultation whenever Simon bit back his overwhelming fear of the templars to teach classes in secret. Valour had praised him for acting through fear and the spirit was his best friend.

Solas leaned back in his chair and considered him for a moment. “I will consider your request.”

Simon blinked. “Thank you, Solas. I think you could teach them a lot. I… I have to go. There’s something I need to take care of.”

He disentangled himself from the chair and left. What he really needed to do was find some privacy so he could figure out what to do. It was so stupid that he hadn’t thought of the rumours already. He needed the people of Haven (or at least the advisors and Cassandra) to be on his side. Simon had no illusions about his place here. The mark on his palm made him a tool. As long he kept being a useful tool, they would let him do things like stay alive and try to start up fledgling mage schools. The rumours wouldn’t exactly make him look very helpful now, would they?

 _:We are more than a tool.:_ The spirit hissed indignantly. _:We are going to close the Breach and save my brethren. We are noble warriors!:_

_:We’re screwed.:_

_:You are letting mortal follies distract you.:_

_:Can we talk about this later? I’m not having this talk with you in the middle of a crowd of people who probably think I’m a blood mage or something.:_

Valour simmered a bit, but said nothing.

He froze when he caught sight of a few mages staring at him intensely. It took all of his strength to smile and walk slowly away. Out of the corner of his eye, they shook their heads. One of them was from his old Circle. She elbowed her friends, gestured at him and bade them closer so she could whisper something into their ears. Great. The rumours were spreading. Like a fungus. Ugh.

He stumbled out of Haven and ran to the cabin. He stood in front of it to admire it. It just looked so awful. It looked gutted. Nobody came here. It was definitely his favourite place in the world. Right now, he needed to be alone so he could think clearly and figure out a plan.

Simon opened the door and froze in the doorway. A group of servants scuttled about with brooms and rags. A few of them were repairing the broken furniture. Dorian lounged on a chair with his feet up on the table. “What are you doing in here?” Simon demanded.

Dorian grinned and spread his arms out. “We’re refurbishing this dismal little ruin for the children. This Inquisition of yours is so sweet. I love it to little pieces.” He stood up. Somehow, he managed to lounge prettily while standing. “You’ve saved a group of oppressed mages, brought peace to the Hinterlands and found the best mage in all of the Imperium to teach children in a hut in the middle of the wilderness. What do you plan on doing next?”

Running. It was hard to think clearly when Valour was shifting about in his mind like a disgruntled bird. The way Dorian tilted his head and set his hands on his slender hips wasn’t helping either. He was sort of pretty, actually.

 _:Stop that! Why are you thinking about that ridiculous creature?:_ Valour thrummed with righteous indignation.

“Cut that out,” he muttered. He rubbed at his forehead.

Dorian stepped forward. His brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

Simon shook his head. “No, I’m just a little…. I just need to think. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

“Yes, that’s not worrying at all.”

“I really am fine. I just need to take a nap.” What he needed was to be alone.

_:I do not understand this. Why are we not closing the Breach now? If you are concerned they will harm us for not being useful, than let us prove our worth.:_

_:I told you already, we’re waiting on the lyrium.:_

_:Can we not get it ourselves? Why must we wait for it? Can we not meet them?:_

_:I’ve explained this before. Why are you being so stubborn about it? We can’t go meet them because we’re not getting it from just one supplier. It’s a group of dwarves delivering it from one place and some smugglers that I don’t know about. There’ s no point in going to meet them when they’re already coming over here.:_

_:But we are idle!:_

Dorian waved a hand in front of his face. “Simon? Do you need me to take you to the infirmary? I have many talents, but healing isn’t one of them.”

“What?”

“Cullen would never forgive me if you collapsed right in front of me. I really don’t think you’re reacting very well to our little trip to the future.”

“What? No. It has nothing to do with that. I just need to be doing something, that’s all.”

Dorian cocked a brow. “Like napping?”

“No.” What he needed was to figure out how to get Valour calm. Maybe he could distract the spirit. It was usually a good tactic when dealing with Valour.

_:It is not! I am incredibly focused.:_

“I’m going to help Harritt make some weapons in the smithy. It’ll help me think.”

Dorian followed him outside. “Are you quite sure?”

“Yes. Go back to helping put the cabin together. You’re doing a great job with that.”

Dorian smirked. “I’m doing an incredible job. I’m sure they’re lost without me.”

He kept his mental focus on Valour while he walked to the smithy. He ducked through the crowd of workers and snagged a length of wood and an empty table. Nobody noticed him. It was far too chaotic here for that and everyone else was already focused on whatever they were doing.

Simon smoothed his hands over the wood. Maybe he could carve the top into three prongs and fit a focusing crystal into the gap.

_:I know you hate ‘being idle’ but I’m getting ready to close the Breach.:_

_:You haven’t closed it.:_

_:I will once we get the lyrium. Sometimes when we fight, you say that I should wait for an opening before I hit something, right?:_

The spirit shifted in thought. _:That is true,:_ he said slowly. _:It is a good tactic. The true warrior is patient.:_

_:Well, I’m being patient now. I’m really not getting distracted. Until the lyrium arrives, I don’t have an opening. But once it gets here, I’ll have an opening and then I can close the Breach.:_

The spirit grumbled about that. He shifted to the back of his mind to sulk. Good. He could think about it for a bit. Simon picked up a sheet of sandpaper to smooth out the wood. Every now and then, the spirit would shift a bit. He could feel the spirit thinking very hard. Hopefully, he’d come around. He hated fighting with Valour. They didn’t argue very often, but it was always exhausting when they did. It always turned into this long process. Usually because once the spirit got an idea into his head, he would worry at it like a dog with a bone. The only way to prevent constant nagging and pushing was to deal with it immediately, no matter what was happening around him.

He lost himself in the work. Every now and then, Valour pushed to the forefront of his mind to watch him work. He felt the spirit’s interest in what he was doing. He had always loved weaponry. In the tower, it was the Tranquil that made the staves and robes but he had pleaded with the First Enchanter until she had finally relented and let him join them. Whenever the spirit was troubled, it helped to craft weaponry. It soothed both of them in a way. After all, when Valour was agitated the emotion tended to affect him as well. They’d been merged together for years. It wasn’t like he could ignore the spirit.

Lost in thought, he smoothed the length of wood. It was a long process, but when he turned it into a finished staff it would be beautiful. Beautiful and deadly. He ran his fingers along the grain of the wood, checking for any inconsistencies in texture. He frowned when his fingers caught on a rough patch. He selected a sheet of sandpaper with a finer grain and set to work again. When he was done with it, it would feel like satin. He was nothing if not meticulous.

Simon only snapped out of his trancelike state when it became too dark to work. He looked around, wondering where the time had gone. Had he really spent the whole day doing this? Haven was quiet and still. He breathed in the chill night air. It was still incredible to be allowed outside. Even after a year of freedom, he still marveled at the fact that he could be outside whenever he wanted to.

Now that he was alone in the dark, he could finally breathe. Simon looked at the staff he was working on. Or tried to. There was barely enough light to glint off the knife. He reached out into the Fade and called for a wisp. A few of them gathered, but he searched for a specific one that he’d summoned before. Once he found it, he sent the others away. _:Want to hang around for a bit and watch me work?:_

It rippled happily. He pulled it through the Veil. It shimmered and bobbed above his fingers. “Hey there, little guy,” he said.

Its light flickered and it hovered about his worktable.

 _:You will never find the perfect expression of combat with that weapon,:_ Valour said.

“How can I make it better?”

The spirit had several good ideas about that. He still wasn’t completely satisfied with his work on the wood yet, but he could pick out a focus crystal to use later. Valour had very strong opinions on what sort of crystal would be best. Simon laid out potential focusing crystals on the table. By the wisp’s dancing light, he touched them in turn with his magic. The wisp bobbed closer.

Simon reached out and coaxed it back a few inches to safety. In the end, they selected a smooth, crystalline orb.

_:Why do you not simply will it into being?:_

“The real world is different from the Fade, Valour. I can’t will weapons into being.”

_:You will magic into being.:_

“That’s different. I’m not really sure how to explain it.”

_:Perhaps you cannot will it into being because you do not believe you can. Believe you can.:_

“I’ll work on that.”

Someone laughed. Simon froze. “Are you using that wisp as a nightlight? That’s adorable.”

He tried to turn around. He ended up making an awkward, twisting, flailing motion. The wisp bobbed around his head. Dorian and Varric stood there. The dwarf stared at the wisp. “Well, how about that.”

Dorian waved a hand at him. “It’s only a wisp, they’re perfectly harmless.” His eyes glinted. “What did you call it? Valour? Are you naming wisps now?”

Simon bit his lip and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yes? I just. I don’t have any candles and I thought I was alone.”

Dorian touched a finger to his lips. “That’s right, you’re a spirit healer aren’t you? Do you summon spirits often?”

Panic stabbed through him. “No. I mean, I’m only supposed to do it for healing, and that’s not even summoning really. It’s just calling one over and convincing it to help, but I don’t actually bring them through the Veil. They stay in the Fade and I channel their energies.” He gestured at the wisp. “This is just a little one. Officially, I never summon spirits under any circumstances. Please don’t tell anyone. I could get in a lot of trouble for this.”

Varric came over, edging around the wisp, and patted his back. “Relax, Glowbug. Our lips are sealed.”

Wonderful. He’d been nicknamed. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Dorian said. “Back home we keep spirits as servants. The things they can be made to do are quite marvelous. You should see them.”

“What?” Simon cradled the wisp close. It flickered curiously between his fingers. “That’s awful. They’re people. You shouldn’t make them do anything. They’ve all got personalities and things. It’s not right.”

“They’re amorphous constructs of the Fade, Simon. How much personality can they have?”

Obviously, he’d never met a spirit that hadn’t been bound against its will. “Trust me, they’ve got lots of personality. Some of them have too much personality.”

_:That’s true. Some spirits are far too irritating to deal with.:_

“There’s no harm putting them to constructive use,” Dorian said. “Most mages back home treat them well.”

He shifted uneasily. “Spirits have a purpose. If you’re not letting them fulfill their purpose, then you’re not treating them well.” He gestured to the wisp. “I’ve known this wisp for years and I always ask it before I summon it. It doesn’t have to come if it doesn’t want to. It’s my friend, and I would never pull it over without consent. It just wanted to watch me work for a bit.”

Dorian smiled as though he was the most adorable creature to walk the face of the earth. “Simon,” he said gently. “You can’t befriend amorphous constructs.”

The wisp pressed against his fingers. Reluctantly, he let it go. It weaved a bit closer to Dorian and Varric. Simon stepped after it. “Please come back.” It reversed direction and bumped playfully against him. “It’s time for you to go back home, okay?” It rose to eye level and flickered insistently. “I’m done working now. I’m just going to go to sleep. It won’t be very fun for you to watch. I’ll-“

_:Valour, can you tell it that I’ll find it tonight in the Fade and we can play for a bit if it goes home?:_

_:I have done as you requested.:_

_:Thanks:_

The wisp slipped back into the Fade.

Dorian chuckled and shook his head. “You didn’t even order it. You _asked_ it _nicely_. Never go to Tevinter, they’ll eat you alive.”

He laughed a bit nervously. “Sure, just don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Relax,” Varric said and slapped his back. “We can keep a secret.”

 

Simon visited Josie first thing in the morning. “Um, remember when you asked me if there was anything about my past that you should know about? And I laughed and ran away?”

She smiled warmly. “Why don’t you take a seat, Lord Trevelyan?”

He sat on the edge of the chair. “Please don’t call me that. Just Simon. And I lied. A bit. Not really. I just didn’t tell you some things that you should know about.”

Josie sifted through some papers on her desk. “Take your time. We have all day.”

“Well, there were some stories about me in my old Circle. Just little things. I’m a spirit healer, so they watched me really closely. My family also pulled me out once a year so I could go to great-aunt Lucille’s balls and a lot of the mages didn’t like that so they would spread stories and things.”

“What sort of stories?” She dipped her quill into the ink.

“That I was an abomination. Stuff like that. I think there was some stuff about me sleeping my way through the tower so they didn’t turn me Tranquil or something.”

Her eyes widened. “Why would they do that? You’re an excellent mage.” She began taking notes.

“I studied spirits and the Fade a lot. They thought I was crazy. I held secret healing lessons, too and they didn’t like that either. The templars were always trying to catch me slipping up and turning into an abomination or something so they had to look into the rumours most of the time.”

She nodded slowly. “And proving them false didn’t help?”

“No. A lot of them couldn’t be disproven, you know? And some of it was my fault. I just thought you should know. I mean, you do the diplomatic stuff, right? And a lot of mages from my old Circle are here and I think the rumours are spreading again so I just thought you should know.” He shifted uneasily. “Honestly, I thought you’d be angry or something.”

She paused in her writing. “Of course, not,” she said. “I’m Antivan. It would take a lot more to shock me.” She patted his hand. “Don’t worry about this. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks. How are we on the whole payment thing?”

She smiled sweetly at him. “I truly am sorry, Simon. Right now we just don’t have enough coin to pay everyone. It’s a noble thought, but we just don’t have the resources for it. Perhaps in the future, but not right now.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

He left in a daze. It was still very strange that his advisors stood by him. Usually, people second-guessed him and accused him of things. They never listened.

_:They see what I see. They see your honour.:_

_:It still feels weird. I’m not used to it. I need to think about this a bit.:_

_:Are we not meeting the other teachers for that school you are creating?:_

_:Yeah, but that’s later. I’ve got time.:_

He slipped into his cabin. A few caged ravens voiced their complaints. “I’m sorry,” he told them. “I didn’t put you guys here. Talk to Leliana about it.”

The largest raven pecked at the bars of its cage.

_:It is dishonourable of her to enslave these creatures.:_

Simon opened the window. He had spent enough time indoors for a lifetime, and it helped to see the outdoors. “They’re not slaves, they’re pets.”

_:They lack freedom.:_

“Let’s focus on closing the Breach before we start fighting for raven freedom, okay?”

The spirit shifted a bit. _:Are we not waiting for an opening? Can we not free them while we wait?:_

“No. I’m getting the school started while we wait.”

Haven’s scarred, black cat leaped onto the windowsill. She arched her back and snarled at the caged ravens. They hopped about on their perches, wings flaring. Simon went to the windowsill and stroked her ears. “Hi there.”

“Hello.” Simon yelped and looked up. Dorian smiled at him through the open window. “You should be more careful with that mangy beast. It nearly took someone’s finger off this morning.”

He scooped her up. Mittens nuzzled his chin. “Why would she bite anyone? What happened?”

“Well, we were all in the tavern eating lunch and that cat leapt onto the table. Then she reached out and knocked a poor servant’s sandwich right out of his hands. When he tried to shoo the cat away, it tried to eat his fingers.”

“She’s just spirited. And look how cute she is. Come inside and look at her closely, she’s adorable.”

Dorian’s eyes glittered with what might have been supressed mirth. He vanished from the window and swept into the cabin as though he owned it. Simon obligingly held the cat out for inspection. Mittens hissed and immediately sank her claws into his arm.

“That beast,” Dorian announced, “is feral.”

“Stop insulting this cat. She’s _perfect_. Don’t you listen to him, Mittens. Apparently they don’t have real cats in Tevinter. You’re wonderful.” She growled and nibbled on his fingers.

Dorian groaned. “You don’t mean to say that this mangy beast is _yours?_ ”

“She doesn’t belong to anybody. She’s a cat that lives in Haven and usually she sleeps in my bed at night. Sometimes she follows me around. I’m her favourite.”

“Lucky beast.” Dorian glared at the cat. Mittens swiped at his arm.

“She’s just a bit grumpy. She’s really very sweet.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

 _:Are you starting this again?:_ Valour demanded.

_:What?:_

_:This irritating habit of yours. At times you become obsessed with certain individuals.:_

_:I don’t get obsessed. It’s just a crush. It’ll go away. It’s just a stupid mortal thing. I can’t help it.:_

The spirit thrummed a bit with indignation _._ “Although,” Simon said thoughtfully, “I should probably find that servant and heal his hand. Cat bites can get infected pretty easily.”

Dorian smiled warmly. “Honestly, I’m amazed it’s not lunging for your throat. Just how good at healing are you?”

Extremely. “I’m okay.”

“There’s that modesty again.”

It wasn’t modesty. It was survival instincts. “You didn’t learn any healing magic?”

“Of course not. Necromancy doesn’t mix very well with that sort of thing.”

Simon blinked a bit. Valour lurched to the forefront of his mind. _:What! I will not have you consorting with such creatures.:_

“Yeah, that’s a problem.” He had no idea if he was talking about Valour’s reaction or acknowledging Dorian’s point about necromancy.

 _:We were just fighting yesterday. Are we going for the hat trick or something? Do we have to do this?:_ he thought.

The spirit shifted angrily. _:Why do you defend such reprehensible acts?:_

 _:Necromancy doesn’t mean binding spirits against their will.:_ Simon said, “You don’t bind spirit’s though, right?”

Dorian shrugged. “Sometimes. Oh, don’t give me that look. I told you earlier, they’re only amorphous constructs. They don’t have feelings, Simon.”

He stared blankly at the mage. “You’re really not making this easy.”

And then Valour yanked him into the Fade.

 

Simon whirled around. The Fade swirled about him. He stood in Valour’s patch of Fade. Valour had constructed the area into a training ring. Racks of weapons and armour dotted the landscape. The spirit stood in the center of the ring, drawn up like an affronted bird. His armour gleamed and he clutched a greatsword. That didn’t mean Simon would be scared. Valour usually liked to be holding onto a weapon, just for the feel of it. Besides, he was too angry to be scared. “What the fuck?”

He pointed at Simon with the weapon. “You are distracted. Your judgement is compromised. I am intervening.” His voice boomed across the landscape. Spirits were so fucking dramatic.

Simon didn’t even bother to check the connection to his body. Valour wouldn’t start moving his body around without express permission. “You realize that every time you do this it looks like I faint, right? What’s Dorian going to think?”

Valour stabbed his sword into the packed dirt. “What does it matter what the foul necromancer thinks? Why have you become so attached to such a dishonourable man?”

He sucked in a furious breath. “I’m not even doing anything with him. He doesn’t even like me that way.”

“What does that matter? It is a distraction.”

“What has gotten into you lately? Ever since we brought the mages back your temper’s been out of control. We’ve made progress. Why aren’t you happy?”

Valour pointed at the Breach. Even in the Fade, they couldn’t escape it. He didn’t know if it was just hanging in the Fade or if his own mind had put it there to leer at him. “Every moment that is open, my brethren are ripped through the Veil and destroyed. Those that are not destroyed are twisted into demons. All of our efforts must be focused on closing it. The Veil shudders under the strain and you are running about indulging in mortal follies and cavorting with necromancers!”

The earth rippled. Simon huffed. “Okay, let me explain this again. I get that you’re worried, but I just need a little more time. The lyrium will get here in two or three days and then we can close it. Only then. Not before.”

“How long is that?”

“Not very long. You just need to be a bit patient. I hate the Breach too. We’re going to close it, but I need you to relax a bit.”

“Necromancers destroy what could be. They are foul creatures. It is not honourable.”

Simon forced out a deep breath. The air twisted around him. He tried to keep his voice even. “I wouldn’t have been able to come back without him, Valour. I was pushed through that portal and I went into the future and you were gone. He is the reason that we are still together.” He jabbed a finger at the fuming spirit. “You owe him.”

The spirit bristled. “I do not.”

“Yes, you do. We both do. And we’ll call it even if you let me be friends with Dorian without complaining about it.”

That gave the spirit pause. Valour paced about the training ring. Simon leaned against the railing and waited. After a few circles, the spirit walked over to him. “You are insolent, but your will is unquestionably strong. I will allow you to cavort with the foul necromancer.”

“Thanks. I know that was hard for you.”

The spirit puffed up. “And you will close the Breach as soon as the lyrium arrives?”

“As soon as the damn lyrium gets here, I’m dropping everything to close that fucking Breach. Can I please go back now? Please?”

The spirit stood beside him. The Fade smoothed out around them. Simon hadn’t realized how jagged the edges of Valour’s domain had been until they’d eased back into the usual sweeping curves. “Why do you want to spend time with such a creature? I do not understand it, Simon.”

He shrugged. “He’s a friend. I always thought that Melwyn would be my only friend and she’s Tranquil now.”

“Friendship is a mortal concept.”

 

Valour pushed him back into his body. Simon sucked in a breath and knocked hands away from his forehead. He tried to say, “Stop that.” It came out as, “Stp’t.”

“He’s awake,” Solas said.

Simon sat up. He was still in his cabin, but somebody had tucked him into bed. Solas knelt by his side. He stared at him with narrowed eyes. A templar stood by the door, hand on his sword. He shivered.

Dorian pushed himself away from the wall and sighed loudly. “Finally. I can’t believe you fainted.”

“I’m okay now,” Simon said. “And I didn’t faint.”

“You swooned,” Dorian snapped, “like a heroine in a trashy romance novel.”

“I’m probably just sick,” he tried. Wait, why was Solas here? “Did Solas look at my dreams?” he asked.

The elf shook his head. “I attempted to do so, but was blocked by the Mark. I doubt I could enter your dreams unless you invited me.”

The knot of tension in his gut eased slightly. He nodded. “How long was I out?”

“An hour.”

Fuck. “I was supposed to meet you two and Dalish today in the tavern half an hour ago.”

Dorian huffed. “That’s what you’re worried about? What about the fainting?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“The Herald,” Solas said, “has a history of fainting. I believe it was simply the mark affecting him poorly. Simon, I want you to come to me if you get dizzy. There may be something I can do to prevent this from happening again if I can catch it earlier.”

Simon huffed and curled in on himself. “Everyone faints now and then,” he snapped.

“No,” Dorian said. “They really don’t. How long have you been sick?”

“I’m not sick. Let’s just forget it. It’s just a thing that happens. I’m a healer, okay? Don’t you think I’d know if there was something wrong with my body?” He turned to Solas. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m okay. Now, what about the teacher meeting thing? Is Dalish just sitting in the tavern wondering where we are?”

Solas’ lips curled up a bit. He might have been smiling. “We told her to wait. Do you feel well enough to attend? We can reschedule if you’d prefer.”

Simon tried not to bristle at that. “Of course I’m not rescheduling. Let’s go. Are you two coming? I know you weren’t that excited about teaching, Solas.”

“I believe I shall attend.”

Dorian scoffed and said something in Tevene. Simon did know some Tevene, but his vocabulary was limited to the words typically found in textbooks. He didn’t understand a single word of what the Tevinter muttered. It was probably swearing. Melwyn had taught him some Dalish swear words. Maybe later he could ask Dorian to teach him some more colourful Tevene phrases.

Dorian and Solas followed him to the inn. Simon smiled a bit nervously when he saw Dalish sitting with Bruce and Helen, two mages from his old Circle. They had drinks. They were talking to each other.

Helen laughed and waved him over. “Hello, Simon. Dalish was just telling us that you were bringing back the old reading circle. Did you faint again?”

“I didn’t,” he said.

Helen shook her head. “I don’t believe that for a second. He was always fainting back home, you know. Sometimes he’d just drop like a stone in the middle of lessons.”

Dorian turned to him. “You do know that’s not normal, right? People don’t just collapse for no reason. You must be ill with something.”

Simon shook his head. Bruce said, “Course he is. Comes and goes, though, doesn’t it? Nothin’ to worry about, Vint. Just how he’s been after the Harrowing.”

“Let’s not talk about my health,” Simon said firmly. Dorian asked far too many questions and even though Solas looked bored, he got the feeling that he was listening very intently. “Let’s talk about the students, okay?”

“About that,” Bruce said, because he never knew when to shut up. “Helen and I thought we’d volunteer as teachers.”

Simon thought about that for a second. The two were good mages, but most importantly, they had a good temperament. They wouldn’t try to make the students afraid of their magic. Some of Simon’s earlier teachers had been like that, and they had been awful. Bruce could be quite blunt, but they were pretty good with kids. They genuinely enjoyed teaching. He nodded.

Bruce clapped him on the back. “Thanks, Simon. It’s good to be part of the reading circle.”

Personally, Simon was sick to death of hearing about his old reading circle.

Helen perked up a bit. She seemed to have just realized that Dorian and Solas were there to help with the teaching and not as escorts of some kind. “Are they some of your contacts?”

“What?”

“Every now and then new books would appear on the shelves,” Bruce said. The bastard seemed to think he was being helpful. “Nobody knew where they came from. That was you, right? With contacts. You had smugglers or something.”

Baffled, Simon shook his head. “What? No? I… How would I even build a magic book smuggling ring?”

Bruce grinned at him and nodded, as though they were sharing a secret. “Sure thing, Simon. We believe you.” He winked.

He resisted the sudden urge to bash his head into the table.

Dorian said, “I’m quite good at elemental magic. I can teach that, if there are no objections.” Dorian was getting them back on track. He was a saint.

“That’s a good idea,” Simon said. “I can teach healing and answer any questions about spirits and the Fade. Solas, you said you could do the occasional lecture?”

The elf’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Occasionally. Perhaps if someone else is ill.”

“Simon, aren’t you going to teach them Dalish magic?” Helen said.

Simon faltered. “Um.” He’d forgotten just how many wild rumours there had been. Maybe he should put a list together? He quickly decided that such a list would be too long and depressing. It said a lot about Helen’s faith in wild rumours that she was asking him that and not the elves. Dalish certainly looked baffled. “I don’t know any Dalish magic,” he said.

Helen blinked. “Weren’t you friends with that wild Dalish girl? Remember her, Bruce? Came in like a wild thing, all stick thin with no shoes. Whatever happened to her?”

Oh, that roiling pit had opened up in his gut again. God forbid he go a day without it. “Her name is Melwyn and she was turned Tranquil. She works with the apothecary here.”

Helen blinked at him again. “Oh. I thought she’d died.”

Simon thought he’d rather run screaming from the room then spend another minute here. Eventually, they managed to hammer out a rough plan. They would each take turns (except Solas, who insisted on only being available if someone else was sick, dying or completely incompetent) and would teach their strengths. Between them, they should be able to teach the children here techniques and spells from a variety of sources.

He really hoped this worked out. He already had several lessons planned out in his head. Barring a catastrophe, they should be able to start classes tomorrow. He would teach the first lesson.

Simon fled as soon as they finished. He made for the woods outside Haven. He did not want to answer any questions. He did not want to see people staring at him. He did not want to hear the whispers.


	3. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The school is off to a smashing start and his brother arrives to 'help.'

He woke up the next morning to Mittens batting at his nose. The cat wailed at him. “I don’t have anything for you to eat,” Simon told her. She sniffed at him and jumped off the bed. She yowled at one of the caged ravens and stuck her paw through the bars to slash at it. “Have fun. Try not to hurt them, or Leliana will have your hide.”

The cat ignored him. Typical. He knelt down so he could stroke her fur. “It’ll be okay,” he told her. “I’m just going to teach a class of apprentices. I used to do that earlier. I’m worrying for no reason. The lyrium’s going to arrive tomorrow or the day after, and it’ll be okay. We’ll close the Breach and maybe everyone will go home afterwards. Do you think all the rifts will seal up by themselves once the Breach is closed?”

Mittens groused at him and gave him a look. It seemed to say, ‘Do you really think it will be that easy?’

“Not really. But it’s nice to hope.”

 

Simon knew something was wrong as soon as he saw the crowd outside the cabin in the woods. He’d planned on holding lessons in there, away from prying eyes. Cullen had stationed a templar to watch them (something that he had only agreed to after a very long, exhausting argument). The templar stood at ease off to the side. It was a position that he’d seen templars stand in for most of his life, but the tension in the woman’s frame was also something he’d seen in all his life. That tension did not bode well.

They were missing a teacher too. Solas was nowhere to be found. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Disappointing, but not unexpected. Bruce and Helen were a study in coiled, furious nerves. Dorian leaned against the cabin wall, examining his nails and looking utterly unconcerned with what was happening around him. Dalish stood nervously to the side, watching the children milling about. Simon swore under his breath. There were not as many children as there should have been.

 _:Do you think it’s too late to run and forget this whole teaching thing_?: he asked.

Valour pulsed reassuringly. _:Be brave.:_

Simon took a deep breath and hesitantly walked towards the knot of children. One peeled away from the group and ran toward him. Atvin. He’d been going to his old reading circle in the tower for four years now. He was sixteen. The elf shouted his name, as though Simon might have failed to notice him.

“You’ll never believe it,” Atvin shouted. “They wouldn’t listen.”

Simon winced. Atvin sported a magnificent black eye. “Why are you hurt?”

The elf jerked his chin up. “You should see Maisie.”

He sighed and went to the others. “What in the void is going on?”

“The school,” Dorian said archly, “is off to a smashing start.”

Atvin scowled at him. Helen stepped forward. “It’s just a bit of teething troubles, isn’t it? Don’t you worry about it, Simon. The others’ll see sense soon enough.” She twisted her hands in her robe.

“The others,” Atvin announced, “are idiots. They were saying all kinds of crap and that you was gonna teach us blood magic and things. I told them I’d been part of the old reading circle for four years and proud of it and it was just healing and things, but Maisie didn’t believe me. She said you was fucking demons and raising corpses and shit. So I punched her.”

“What,” Simon demanded, horrified.

“You should have seen it!” Amalie said happily. “He broke her nose and she bled all over the place.”

Atvin grinned and presented his split knuckles for inspection. Simon stood rooted to the spot in horror. This was a living nightmare.

The children looked at him expectantly. He dimly remembered Maisie as a foul tempered brat who had been ripped away from a loving home and was mad at the world. “Isn’t Maisie twelve? Did you punch a twelve year old?”

Atvin nodded firmly. “She punched back too. Then I-“

“Please stop, for the love of god. I don’t want to hear about any more fighting, alright?” The children started grumbling as one. “No. No fighting, okay?”

“But we’re on your side,” Atvin said fiercely.

“There aren’t any sides. I don’t have a side. I have a group of kids going around punching people. There are templars here, what were you thinking?”

“Templars here don’t care if you hit people, long as you don’t use magic. Fists are okay.”

“Fists are _not_ okay.” He tried not to glare at the students. It wasn’t their fault, really. “Now where is everyone else? There are supposed to be twenty seven of you and I only see sixteen. That’s just over half of the amount I should have.”

“They didn’t want to come. Thought they’d get in trouble for being around you.”

Simon closed his eyes momentarily. It was fine. It was all fine. They would still hold lessons. Maybe Helen was right and some people would change their mind. They probably wouldn’t, but they might. And the ones that gathered here really did want to learn. He couldn’t just abandon them. Valour hummed in approval and he knew that he was making the right decision.

“Should we round up the missing kids?” Bruce asked.

He opened his eyes. “No. Nobody has to come to lessons if they don’t want to. We will not hunt them down and force them to attend class. We are not templars.”

The templar stationed there might have rolled her eyes. It was impossible to tell because of the stupid helmet she wore. He’d always hated the design of the templar helmets. The slitted helm made it impossible to tell where they were looking. Simon would have been willing to bet good coin that she’d rolled her eyes though.

He narrowed his eyes. “No more flag waving. I was going to teach you about barriers, but it looks like today will be a healing lesson instead. I want everyone here to ignore whatever rumours you hear about me. I know there are a lot of templars around, but nobody is going to hurt you for taking lessons or practicing. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful, but it does mean that you should try not to be afraid. When you do practice, I want it to be outside Haven’s gates, okay?”

Simon gestured at the other adults. “These are your other teachers. Every day, you’ll get a new one and you’ll get to learn and practice something new.” He pointed to each in turn. “Dorian and Dalish will be focusing on the primal school. Helen will do entropy and spirit. Bruce will do creation and I’ll do creation and spirit. Although we’ll be taking turns teaching, you should expect the rota to change now and then. Sometimes one or more of us will be away. That means you’ll get more instruction from another teacher. It doesn’t mean you don’t come to class.” He tried not to think about Solas. He couldn’t really blame the apostate for getting spooked. Or maybe he had just changed his mind. Solas had never actually said he would teach anything, just that he would consider it.

“The Vint’s with you?” Atvin asked. He shot a wary glare at Dorian.

Simon sighed. “He’s the reason that all the mages from Fiona’s ‘rebellion’ aren’t slaves, so yes. He’s with me.”

Atvin winced. “Ugh. Okay. Guess he’s not too bad after all.” A few of the other students echoed the sentiment.

Simon resisted the momentary urge to grab Atvin by the ears and see how far he could throw him. Dorian grinned and looked extraordinarily pleased with this development. “I want that on my wall. ‘Dorian Pavus, not too bad after all.’”

Now that they had been introduced, the other teachers could leave. Helen and Dalish left gratefully. Bruce stomped off, hopefully not to yell at truants. Dorian grinned at him. “Good luck,” he said airily. “Try not to summon any demons without me.”

For some reason, Simon blushed. He ushered the students inside their cabin in the woods (the templar followed them in and stood in the corner like a statue). Things progressed surprisingly well. Simon started with the basics (the three students that had attended his old reading circle were a bit disappointed at that) and the class dutifully took notes and asked questions. Some of the questions were even smart ones. Atvin sat obligingly on a stool and let the others take turns trying to heal his black eye and split knuckles. Once the two hours were up, the students had tired themselves in the attempt. Simon hadn’t let them burn completely through their mana stores, but a few were visibly panting a bit anyways. They had managed to bring the swelling down, but hadn’t managed to heal it. It was more than he’d expected honestly. Healing was difficult and required a great deal of finesse. With time, anyone could learn it, but it took a lot of dedicated study.

He bade them watch closely and demonstrated how to heal properly. For him, the injuries were nothing. He didn’t even have to call on Valour for help. He finished the job in seconds.

Once the students left, Simon smiled. : _I think it’ll be okay. We’re doing well, aren’t we?:_

_:Yes.:_

He smiled all the way to the tavern. Maybe next class he could do barriers. Would they let him borrow a patient from the infirmary the next time he taught healing? Simon had always found that students learnt best by actually practicing the technique and not just reading about it. In his old reading circle, sometimes he would cut himself specifically so the students could practice their healing. He frowned slightly. In retrospect, that was probably how the blood mage rumours had gotten started. There was nothing he could do about it now, though. And it had been a very effective teaching method. And he was a very skilled healer so a small cut wasn’t really a problem.

He pushed open the tavern door. A few people glared and a few more stopped talking. Not so bad. Varric waved him over to a table. The dwarf had managed to get Sera, Blackwall, Dorian and The Iron Bull together for a card game. He sat between Varric and Dorian, who cheerfully made room for him.

“Fecking gobshites,” Sera said. She made a very rude hand gesture at a few whispering soldiers.

“I don’t care. It’s fine, really.”

“So what if you’re bit of a loony and do all that creepy shite. Not like they’re not spooky.”

He thought that was a compliment. Maybe. “Thanks?”

Varric slapped his shoulder. “So, Glowbug, how was the teaching?”

“Okay. Nobody got smited or anything and I think they learned something.” Some of them had learned how much they hated learning about healing, but technically it counted as learning.

“That,” Dorian said, “is a remarkably low bar for success.”

The Iron Bull pushed a cup of something over. Simon tried not to look too closely at it. He grinned toothily. “Drink up, boss.”

Simon sniffed it cautiously. He recoiled at the fumes. “What _is_ that?”

Blackwall laughed. “Butterbile. You found it in the Hinterlands.”

He shrugged a bit nervously. “I thought it looked pretty. I’m not going to drink it. I’ve never drunk in my life.”

Blackwall roared with laughter. “Only you would pick up a bottle of booze because you think it looks pretty.”

Dorian gasped and pressed a hand to his heart in faux-horror. “Why? How?”

“They didn’t have windows at the tower. Do you honestly think they let us have alcohol?”

“Well, shit.” Varric pushed his mug of ale forward. “Try some of that, Glowbug. You’ll like it.”

Simon sniffed it cautiously, to a round of raucous laughter. Sera straight up pointed at him and howled with glee. “Down it! Down it!”

It didn’t look too bad and it wasn’t emitting toxic fumes, so he sipped it. It tasted bitter. He wasn’t entirely sure that he liked it. “It’s okay.”

The Iron Bull waggled his cup of fuming toxicity at him. “Come on boss, try some of this. Put some hair on your chest.”

He wrinkled his nose. “My chest is just fine.”

Dorian choked on a laugh. “Don’t give him whatever that monstrosity is. Here, try this you poor, sheltered boy.” He poured out an unnervingly large glass of wine and all but demanded that he try it immediately or there would be dire consequences.

And so it continued. They laughed and tried to teach him whatever overly complicated card game they were playing. They insisted on him trying what felt like every alcoholic beverage known to man. Simon liked the rich, fruity wine that Dorian gave him most. The mage smirked and said, “Your taste is passable at best. Have some more.”

He didn’t have any money to gamble with, but Varric let him gamble with some pretty rocks that Simon had found in one of his many pockets since he’d never drank, gambled or played cards before.

“Why do you even have those?” Blackwall asked.

Simon laughed (everything seemed awfully funny at that point) and said, “They’re bits of outside. Outside’s good. I like outside.”

“You’ve got to meet Daisy one of these days,” Varric said. “You’d get along well.”

Valour shifted in discomfort. _:Why are you doing this?:_

“I’m having fun,” he said.

Varric chuckled. “That’s the idea, Glowbug.”

_:But you are not as observant. Your body is compromised. A true warrior should not compromise themselves this way.:_

“Today,” he said a bit too loudly, “I’m not a true warrior. I’m having fun.”

The spirit grumbled a bit and went off to the back of his mind to sulk.

Blackwall roared with laughter. “I can’t tell if you need more drink or less. You’re drunk!” The warden poured him more wine though. All in all, the evening was a success.

 

The evening’s ‘success’ stopped as soon as the hangover hit him a few hours later. Valour shifted smugly in his mind. “Shut up,” he told the spirit.  

The head surgeon gasped. “Don’t tell me to shut up. I’m doing my _job_.” Her increase in pitch sent another spike of pain through his temples.

Simon winced and waved at her apologetically. “Not you. I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Yes, you were. You were just complaining about the leeches. They’re important. How else am I supposed to get the bad blood out?”

Simon hissed between his teeth in frustration. “Never mind.” He retreated to a safe distance and tried not to look like he was storming off.

“And keep that damn cat of yours away from the infirmary! The beast’s possessed or something,” the head surgeon shouted after him.

He resisted the urge to throw a boot at her. Dorian strolled up to him. “She’s right about the cat, you know. That thing is a demon.”

He glared balefully at the mage. “Nobody is possessed. Why does everyone keep saying that?” He flung an arm towards the infirmary. “Where is she getting all these leeches from anyways? She’s got to stop leeching people. They need that blood! I feel like half of all the healing I’ve done in my entire life is replacing lost blood and she’s running around bleeding people.”

Dorian smirked at him. “Yes, your weekly visits to the infirmary are a wonderful source of entertainment.”

“Last time I was over, she said I had too much yellow bile and offered to bleed me. Too much yellow bile. What does that even mean?” He stamped his foot. Dorian was far too put together for someone who’d been drinking so much wine. “How are you not hungover? My head is pounding.”

Dorian tugged him towards his cabin. “That’s because you have no alcohol tolerance whatsoever.” Simon looked at him woefully. “Oh, come here you poor, sheltered boy. I’ll show you a trick I learned to help.”

“I’m fully grown, you know. I don’t know why everyone calls me a boy all the time.”

Dorian’s gaze skipped up and down his body. “I’m well aware.”

Dorian pulled him inside and motioned for him to sit on the bed. Simon cautiously settled on the edge. There was a peculiar look in the other man’s eyes that sent shivers down his spine. Dorian rubbed his fingers together and a blue light sparked between them. He sat beside Simon as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Simon tried not to blush. He could feel the heat coming from Dorian’s body. The other man was far too close for comfort. Was it a bit rude of him to be getting so distracted when Dorian was just trying to be nice? “I thought you weren’t good at healing magic,” he blurted out.

Dorian arched an elegant brow. “This isn’t healing. This is an essential life skill.”

He reached out and touched his fingertips to Simon’s temples. The other man’s touch was so light he barely felt it, but he could still feel a blush creeping up the back of his neck. Tendrils of healing magic prickled through his scalp. The sharp pounding dulled to a low throb. Simon sighed and let his head loll forward a bit. Dorian hummed and shifted a bit closer.

Normally when he saw other people healing, Simon would examine their technique to figure out how he could replicate it. Currently, he couldn’t be bothered. It felt too good to have Dorian touching him this way to worry about picking apart his healing technique. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“They really didn’t let you have wine in the Circle?” There was something off about his tone. Simon couldn’t quite decipher it. He looked up. Dorian’s face was a smooth mask.

“No. There was a lot they wouldn’t let us have. Or do.” Any sort of romantic relationship, for example. Why was he even thinking about that now? He eased back from Dorian a bit. “Melwyn once…” What in the void was he doing? “Melwyn was like you. Before, I mean. She was brave. Except she was a girl.” Idiot. The implications of what lunacy he was saying sifted through his mind. He had to stop talking.

Melwyn had teased and flirted with everyone. It had been very confusing at first for Simon. He hadn’t realized that she meant it as a game and had pulled her aside once to tell her shyly that while he was flattered he didn’t like girls. She had rolled her eyes and laughed at him. “I know that,” she’d said. “If you liked girls we wouldn’t be such good friends.” She’d stretched then to stick out her breasts and winked at him. “You’d be too _consumed_ with lust to be _any fun_.” Then she’d grabbed his hand and led him away to help her play a prank on some poor, unsuspecting templars.

He blushed furiously at the memory and shot to his feet. Before he could flee, Dorian snagged his hand. “You think I’m brave?” His voice wavered a bit.

A few thousand different responses tripped through Simon’s head. He was bound to a spirit of valour so he knew a thing or two about bravery. He’d seen Dorian cast spells and he wasn’t just brave, he was fearless. He turned to look at the other man. His breath caught. Dorian looked more vulnerable than he’d ever seen him. Being tossed into a dark, terrifying future hadn’t scared him at all, but something about what Simon said had shaken him. “You came here to help us,” he said seriously. “You knew that everyone here would hate you, but you came anyways because you wanted to help. Even though it was hard, you did the right thing. I’ll bet you were scared, but you did it anyways. That’s what valour is.”

“Kaffas.” Dorian tugged him closer. Simon bit back a startled yelp and tripped over his own feet. Dorian didn’t seem to care about how stupidly clumsy he was being. He yanked Simon onto his lap and kissed him fiercely. He couldn’t hold back a soft whimper. An arm snaked around his waist to pull him flush against the other man. Dorian’s other hand tangled into his hair. Simon could barely think under the onslaught.

He decided he didn’t care about thinking anyways. He clung nervously to Dorian’s lean figure. His fingers caught on one of the ridiculous buckles that criss-crossed over the other man’s torso. Dorian licked into his mouth and Simon couldn’t help but surrender completely. His skin prickled. If he spontaneously combusted from this, he wouldn’t have been surprised. It would be worth it. Clever teeth nipped at his lips.

 _:What are you doing?:_ Valour asked. The spirit pulsed curiously. _:You’ve never done that before.:_

Simon made a soft, startled sound. Dorian took the sound as permission to tighten his grip on his hair until he made another sound that was absolutely not a breathless whine.

_:Simon?:_

He ripped his mouth away and hid his face in the crook of Dorian’s neck. _:It’s just a silly, mortal thing. Don’t worry about it.:_

_:But he bit you. That’s not very friendly.:_

He didn’t think it was possible for him to get any more flushed. Dorian uncurled his arm from Simon’s waist and idly traced his spine. _:Later I’ll answer any questions, okay? Just please go away.:_

Valour bristled with indignation. _:We are bound together, insolent boy.:_

“I’m not a boy,” Simon said.

Dorian nipped at his earlobe. “Yes, yes. You’re very manly.”

“That’s not what I meant. Just give me a second.”

He huffed playfully. “Well, I’d like to think I’m holding your attention at least a little.”

“Dorian.”

The mage occupied himself by nibbling at Simon’s neck, which was not at all what he’d meant. It still sent sparks through his body. He shifted his head to the side to give the other man more room to work and was rewarded by Dorian promptly taking advantage to sink his teeth into the crook of his shoulder.

_:He’s biting. Melwyn once bit off a templars ear and you were furious. Why is biting acceptable in this scenario?:_

_:Oh my god, will you leave me alone. I’ll explain later. Just please, please, please go away.:_

Valour drew himself up in a huff and went to the back of his mind to sulk. Simon celebrated the spirit’s retreat by nibbling at Dorian’s exposed shoulder. Just because he could. “I’ve never done this before,” he whispered.

Dorian drew back and grinned wickedly. “Really?” he purred. “Don’t worry. I’ve more than enough experience for the both of us.”

Well if that wasn’t distracting, he didn’t know what was. He tried to think through the flurry of mental images that created. Fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt. “I can’t have sex yet,” he blurted. Oops. Mortification scorched through his bones.

Dorian chuckled and pressed a hand to his heart in faux-horror. “Well, _really_. I’m not that easy, Simon. You’ll have to at least buy me a drink first. And you can’t pay in rocks.”

He laughed helplessly and smiled against the other man’s warm skin. “That’s not what I meant. It’s complicated.” For one thing, he would have to have a very long, embarrassing conversation with Valour about it. Valour. He sobered at the thought of the spirit. Dorian didn’t know. He couldn’t know. In a perfect world, maybe, but not this one. In a perfect world, they probably wouldn’t even have met in the first place. “The kissing is nice, though.”

Dorian ran his lips across his jawline, because of course he did. “Just nice? Not sublime? Perfect?” He kissed the corner of his mouth. “Are you _consumed_ with lust yet?”

“Ugh, you’re so weird.” Simon kissed him just to shut him up.

 

Josephine bustled over to him, skirts rustling. She forced a smile. “Herald! I have wonderful news.”

He looked at her suspiciously and resisted the sudden urge to hide behind Dorian. “I’m actually walking Dorian over to the cabin in the woods. It’s his first day teaching. Can it wait?”

“No,” she said firmly. “You recall the soldiers that Lady Osher Trevelyan Bayart sent over?”

Simon frowned. He vaguely remembered something about his family kicking up a fuss about his title. Or something like that. “Vaguely?”

Josie sighed and looked a bit pained. “A distant branch of your family was feuding with another and we were asked to resolve it. We sent soldiers in to contain the fighting and force peace talks. Lady Osher sent some soldiers over in thanks and they’ve arrived today.”

“Great?”

She laughed a bit nervously. “Your brother and niece have arrived with them and are asking to speak with you.”

Simon froze. His innards turned to ice. He stared at her in incomprehension. “Which ones?”

“Leland and Dace. Your brother was quite insistent.”

“Oh.” Of course Leland had come. His older brother Leland, who despised him. Wonderful. That Dace was here was just odd. Of course, it would just be like his brother to drag a ten year old to a frigid mountainous area for no reason. He probably wanted her to see him so she knew exactly what a maleficar looked like. His stomach twisted. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Dorian said, “I take it you don’t get along well with your brother.”

He waved a hand vaguely through the air. “That’s one way of putting it. My family is very … religious.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes.”

“Ah,” a voice boomed. “There’s my little brother the maleficar.” Leland strode over, dragging Dace behind him. Dace, he noted distantly, had a shadow of a bruise along her jawline. She looked terrified. Leland hadn’t changed since Simon had seen him last. He still stood larger than life. He still looked at him as though even being near Simon was an act akin to heresy. He still wore the robes of a Chantry scholar. His gaze dropped, as it always did, to his brother’s left hand.

The bones were still bent unnaturally. The fingers still twisted together into a tangled knot. Odd lumps poked out of the flesh. Simon knew from experience that they would be hard as rock to the touch, despite their fatty appearance. His brother hadn’t even bothered to put on a mitten to hide the old wound. He had flaunted it all the way here. Why? What was he planning? What possible purpose could there be for his sudden arrival and why would he drag their niece along?

“Hi,” he whispered. No. That wouldn’t do. He cleared his throat and tried to rally his thoughts together. They insisted on scattering through his head in a total panic. Valour dove to the forefront of his mind to steady him.

_:We will not run! We will stand strong. We are Valour.:_

“No, that’s you. Not me. I really want to.”

_:We will not. We are one.:_

“What are you saying,” Leland asked.

Someone poked at his arm. “You can be one. Right now, I’m-“

Leland slapped his back and he staggered, momentarily winded. “Are you having one of your fits again?” he demanded. “Get a hold of yourself.” He turned to Josephine. “He’s always like this. You should be careful around him.”

Simon snapped back to attention. He clung mentally to his connection with Valour. The spirit’s influence washed through him like a steadying rain. “I’m not having a fit. I’m fine.” His brother snorted. “What are you doing here?”

Josie opened her mouth, but Leland waved a dismissive hand at her. “Honestly, Simon. Did you think you could hide from us forever? What are you thinking? Getting involved in this heresy. Acting like you’ve been chosen by the Maker. The Maker would never choose someone like you to represent him.”

“I’ve never claimed that. It’s just other people saying that.”

Leland nodded firmly. “Good. As to why I’m here, it’s to prevent you from dragging the family name further through the muck.” Wonderful. “That being said, you did help end that feud our distant cousins got involved in. The soldiers are a thank you. As is the sovereigns.”

Josephine stepped forward at that. “That is a very generous offer.” She looked at him pointedly.

“I can’t imagine,” his brother continued, “that you’re able to pay your ragtag army yet. I can’t imagine you’re happy about that. You’ve always had a preoccupation with doing what you’ve _thought_ was the right thing. Besides, Father agreed that we should just give you the coin instead of you finding a way to steal it.”

“The Herald,” Josephine said, “would never steal from-“

“That was for a good cause,” Simon said firmly. “Fine. You can stay.” Valour shifted restlessly. “Stop that. It’s not like we have a choice in the matter.”

Leland rolled his eyes. “Try not to start frothing at the mouth, maleficar.” He led the troops away, dragging Dace behind him. Simon’s eyes raked across the column. He bit back an oath. He recognized several of the soldiers from his parent’s household. They regarded him as though he was a chained beast liable to break its bonds and start a slaughter any minute. Several of the braver ones sneered. He resisted the urge to shoot them a rude gesture.

“I am so sorry,” Josephine said. She clutched her clipboard tight. “He’s been so eloquent until now. I hadn’t thought that he’d be so rude to his own brother.”

He sighed. “Let’s just say there’s a reason that I didn’t go home after the Circles fell. You should probably go after him before he tries to convert someone. Or stab a mage. Or god knows what else.”

Dorian huffed. “Well, I can’t imagine what fun your family dinners must have been.”

Simon bit back a slightly hysterical laugh. “Oh my god, he’s coming back over.” He paled.

Leland strode over. Cullen glared furiously at him, but snapped orders at the new soldiers that his brother had dumped on him. “At least you have a templar leading your forces.” Simon resisted the sudden urge to cling to Dorian. The other mage stood tall and elegant beside him, as though not bothered at all. He must have been an incredible actor.

“He’s not a templar anymore,” Simon said weakly.

His brother smiled as though he was an idiot and shook his head. “One can never forsake the order.”

“You would know,” he muttered.

Leland’s gaze sharpened. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” If he would just leave. Simon’s insides curdled at the thought of his brother staying in Haven for any length of time. A day would be too much. A minute would be too much. This conversation was too much. Valour was already pulsing furiously. The spirit’s outrage threatened to flood him.

 _:This man is dishonourable,:_ the spirit hissed. _:He is cowardly and weak. We should strike him down. We are free now.:_

Simon shook his head. “He’s too strong for us.” Leland’s lips twitched furiously. He watched his brother try to smile. It horrified him. He stared at Leland in dull shock. Ever since his magic had been discovered, his brother had never smiled at him. Ever. He had no idea what this meant. His brother had arrived unannounced specifically to scare him. If he’d had time to prepare himself for this, he wouldn’t be resisting the urge to flee into the woods and never come back.

“Perhaps,” Josephine said, “You would like a tour?”

His brother nodded imperiously. “That would be appreciated.” He clapped a hand on Simon’s shoulder. He cringed at the touch. “My brother will show me this…” his nose wrinkled. “Quaint village.”

“Fine.” He turned to Dorian. “Thank you. You should go teach the kids.”

His brother sighed, as though just noticing that Dorian was there. “Of _course_ you’ve managed to befriend a magister. And you’re having him teach children as well.”

Dorian smirked viciously. “I’m actually an altus, not a magister. I know you southerners use the terms interchangeably, but that only makes you look like barbarians.”

Leland bristled. “Let’s go,” Simon said, before his brother did anything stupid. “Do you want to see the chantry?” He led his brother – and Dace – away.

 _:This is not what I meant when I said we should stand.:_ The spirit swirled inside him.

_:I’m not running for the hills, okay? This is the best I can do right now.:_

Valour bristled and growled into his mind, but was thankfully silent. Josephine followed them in a swirl of skirts. He pushed open Haven’s gates and beckoned his brother inside. Thankfully, his brother didn’t stop to say anything awful about qunari. He merely rolled his eyes and sighed. Varric, unfortunately, waved at them once he caught sight of them. Undeterred, or perhaps emboldened, by Simon’s horrified, pleading look he trotted forward. “Hey there, Glowbug. Who’s this?”

“I’m his older brother. I’m not surprised he hasn’t mentioned me,” Leland said.

“Shit, I never knew you had a brother.”

“I have two older brothers,” Simon said. “And two sisters. I’m the youngest.” He tugged on his brother’s sleeve. “We’re just doing a quick tour.” Then maybe he’d leave.

Varric followed them to the chantry, scribbling notes on parchment. Simon decided that it wasn’t worth the effort it would take to personally throw him off a mountain. Josephine talked about the daily services and his brother listened with rapt attention. Simon had never loved Josie more for grabbing his attention. Now that his brother’s sharp gaze wasn’t on him, he felt like he could breathe. He tried not to suck in air too obviously.

 _:What are we going to do?:_ Valour asked. _:Will we challenge him?:_

_:No. I have no idea what his plan is, and that’s never good. I need to know why he’s here before I can do anything.:_

_:Then you will do something once you’ve conceived a plan?:_

_:Sure. Just stop pushing.:_

Valour huffed, but did not retreat to the back of his mind. Simon was grateful for the spirit’s presence. He needed the spirit’s influence now more than ever. It was always like this around his family. _:It’s weird that Dace is here,:_ he added.

_:Your family has always angered me. I cannot understand such dishonourable mortals.:_

_:Well, all of Ostwick would disagree with you, but what do they know?:_

_:Obviously, not very much.:_

He felt a bit better after that. Not much, but a bit. Josie gestured at the apothecary’s cabin and said something about potions. Simon wasn’t really paying attention to what she said. He just focused on getting his thoughts in order.

Simon hoped that his brother would be happier once he saw the inside of the Chantry. It was pretty, if nothing else. Chantry sisters were hanging around lighting candles, praying and doing whatever it was they did. Vivienne was there too, doing whatever she did. He didn’t like her much, and tried not to pay too much attention to her. He and Valour didn’t take her comments about locking all mages back up very well.

His brother stiffened. “What is _that?_ ”

Simon cast about for whatever could have put that note of horror in his tone. “What?”

Leland stared at him as though his brains had dribbled out of his ears. He pointed. “That.”

Simon faltered. His brother was pointing at the western wall of the chantry that he had personally refurbished. One of his first acts as ‘Herald of Andraste’ had been to strip the candles from one of the tiered shelves. In their place, he had put the tiny statues of dwarven paragons that he kept finding scattered about the Hinterlands. He had also carved statues to represent all nine of the elven gods. A sturdy bookshelf stood beside the display. He kept all the religious books there. Dalish tales, books about paragons and volumes of the Chant all nestled side by side on its shelves. He was eternally grateful to Valour when his voice came out steady and even. “That’s the part of the chantry devoted to religions other than the Chant. I’ve got things for everyone here, except for the qunari. Maybe later we can get some of the writings of Ashkaari Koslun. The Iron Bull laughed when I asked him and said it wasn’t necessary, but I thought it’d be nice.”

Valour thrummed in pleasure. That was the only thing that prevented Simon from smashing his head against a nearby wall for going out of his way to antagonize his brother.

“This,” Leland said, aghast, “is a chantry. And those writings are _prohibited_.”

“Everyone should be welcome here.”

“We have had,” Josie added, “a very good response from many of our dwarven and elven members.”

That was true enough. The humans had not been so happy. Chancellor Roderick had purpled with fury when he’d seen the alcove and stormed off to preach about sin or something like that. Simon tried not to pay too much attention to zealots that weren’t members of his family.

“Of course,” Leland said, “an abomination such as yourself would defile a chantry this way. Father and mother would be furious.”

“I’m not an abomination. That’s just a rumour.”

“Those who bear false witness and work to deceive others, know this: There is but one Truth. All things are known to our Maker and He shall judge their lies.”

“You sound,” Simon said, “like a chanter. It’s so hard to have a conversation with you sometimes. I like it. That alcove is staying. If you want it to go, you’ll have to tear it apart yourself.”

Noooooo, what was he doing? Valour rushed in his ears like a rising tide. Simon was terrified. The spirit was exultant. _:Your will is unquestionably strong,:_ the spirit crowed. He couldn’t help but smile.

For a moment, it looked as though Leland might actually fling himself at the shelves and dismantle them. Then he took a deep breath and visibly steeled himself. He looked as though he’d bit into a lemon. “The tour has been … lovely. If Lady Montilyet would show Dace and I to our quarters, I would greatly appreciate it.” He shuddered as though just being near the alcove made his skin crawl. Josie led him away, shooting him a baffled look over her shoulder.

 

Simon retreated to the tavern. He saw, with sinking dread, that the inner circle had monopolized a table. Warily, he approached it.

Varric shifted aside to give him room to sit. He perched uneasily, ready to flee at any moment. “So,” the dwarf said. “Your brother is quite the character.”

He groaned and let his head fall into his hands. “My brother is an asshole.”

“Noble tit,” Sera said. She waved with her cup, sloshing ale across the table. “Glad you’re not a tit. You’re _people_ -people. He’s an arsebucket. What about his hand, anyways. Like a friggin claw. You seen it? Think he stuck it in an oven or somethin’?”

“You’ll probably hear the story soon enough. He loves telling it.”

“So, what’s the story?” Varric asked, eyes twinkling. “Templars, priests and a mage in the same family. There must be a story there.”

He leveled a look at the dwarf. “There is a story, and none of you are ever going to hear it. Trust me, there’s a lot about me that you don’t need to know.”

“Oh, come on, Glowbug. Tell us a story.”

“Once upon a time there was a dwarf who asked too many questions. Then an angry mage tossed him off a mountain.” The table burst into laughter.

“Are you sassing us?” Dorian said. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

The Iron Bull pushed a cup of booze over. “Have some of this. You look like you need it.”

“A true warrior keeps his mind clear of distraction,” he said.

Blackwall chuckled. “So you’re a fighter tonight?”

“I am until my brother leaves. Some cards would be nice, though.”

Halfway through the card game – one of Varric’s overly complicated ones where half the table cheated outrageously – Varric asked another question. “That girl, Dace. Is she his?”

Simon thought for a bit. He deemed the question harmless. “No. She belongs to my sister, Constance. I have no idea why she’s here. Constance is a templar. Leland used to be one too, but now he’s a scholar. Everyone in my family except the oldest two is either a chantry scholar, templar or a cleric. It’s awful.”

Varric hummed in thought. Sera slammed her drink down on the table and laughed. “What sort of dumb name is Constance!”

“A dumb one.”

“I admit to finding it curious,” Solas said, “that you have a statue to Fen’Harel in the chantry.”

“Oh.” Simon laughed a bit nervously. “I know a lot of elves don’t like him, but. Well. That’s for a friend of mine.”

“Melwyn?” Dorian asked.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I knew her back at the tower. She prayed to her own gods. The templars and chantry sisters hated it, but they couldn’t get her to stop. At night, she’d pray to Fen’Harel to come over and kill everyone. You know, rip the Ostwick Circle to pieces and stuff like that. I used to pray with her.”

“You pray to both Andraste and the elven gods? How quaint,” Vivienne said. She looked at him coolly from over her cards.

“I thought you were Andrastian,” Blackwall said.

Simon didn’t even try to hide his offense. “I don’t worship any gods. The praying just helped Melwyn. She needed it and she liked it when I joined in. It didn’t matter, so why not do it? It made her happy.”

Solas raised a brow. “You don’t believe in gods?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you are the Herald of Andraste,” Cassandra said.

Simon sighed. He stared at the decanter of wine on the table and reminded himself why drinking was a bad idea right now. “I believe in belief.”

“So you do believe?” Cassandra lay her cards down on the table and furrowed her brows.

“No. Look, gods are just ideas. An idea can be real to some people and just a story to others. It doesn’t matter if gods are real. What matters is what people will do because they believe in gods. I mean we grow up hearing all these stories about gods, but everyone’s heard different stories. Maybe deer have gods and their gods are the only real ones and we’ve all just been telling crazy stories to each other. It doesn’t matter. What matters is what people do. I don’t care if people believe in gods, as long as they’re not jerks about it.”

Cassandra sighed. Sera laughed. “You’re a weird tit!”

“That doesn’t answer anything,” Cassandra said sourly.

He sighed and tipped his head back. “I believe that people will do things because they believe. I think they should do good things because they believe and not do bad things because of it. That’s what I believe in.”

Solas smiled and shook his head. “You are a rare mind, Herald.”

The Iron Bull laughed heartily. “Bet your family loves that.”

Simon wrinkled his nose. “Let’s talk about something else. Varric, why don’t you tell us a story about Hawke or something. You love talking about her.”

Varric spread his hands wide. Somehow, he avoided flashing his cards. “That I do, Glowbug. Well, there was this one time….”


	4. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon discovers the real reason that his brother and niece are here.

That night, just before he opened his cabin door, Leland’s voice cut through the darkness. “Simon.”

Warily, he turned. Leland stood, ringed by the torchlight. Dace stood shivering at his side. She twisted the hem of her dress in her hands and refused to look directly at him. “What?”

His brother looked from side to side. “I would speak with you alone.”

Simon almost refused. Then it occurred to him that he had never seen his brother this nervous. He stood awkwardly, shoulders hunched over his massive frame. “Sure. Want to come inside?”

Thankfully, his brother declined. He stepped close. Valour pulsed in his mind. Simon stood stock-still. “The family has a problem,” Leland hissed. He pushed Dace forward. Although she dug her heels in, his brother was very strong. She lurched right into Simon’s frame. Reflexively, he held her gently. She trembled a bit. “Congratulations. You’ve managed to infect her. You must be proud.”

“What?”

“She’s like you. She’s cursed with magic.”

Simon froze in shock. Valour prodded him firmly. _:Talk.:_

“Since when?”

“Recently. As soon as we discovered her taint, father sent me to bring her to you. We were hoping you could take care of it.”

Simon breathed a sigh of relief. Then it was okay. They hadn’t had the time to hurt her the way they’d hurt him. At least, not as extensively. “Of course I will. Thank you.”

Leland grimaced and stepped back. He nodded, shivered and retreated back into the darkness. Simon happily took Dace into his cabin. She stared at him nervously, tears clinging to her lashes. He pulled her into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry. I promise you it’s going to be okay.”

She dissolved into tears and clung to him. “Uncle Leland said that mama hated me. She doesn’t hate me, does she? Have I been bad?”

He picked her up and sat on the bed. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his shoulder. “No, you haven’t been bad. This is just who you are. There’s nothing wrong about it.” He coaxed her head back so he could see her face. “Our family just gets scared about magic, that’s all. So they say things they shouldn’t. I know how hard it is. I was just a year younger than you when my magic came in.”

“You were?”

“Yes. I turned out okay, didn’t I?”

She hesitated. “Mama says you do bad things. I don’t want to do bad things.” Thankfully, she didn’t sound too sure about this. “But sometimes at Aunt Lucille’s parties you’d make those sparks for us.”

Simon smiled. He remembered that. Every now and then, a niece or nephew would run away from the summer parties to gawk at him. He’d always been left alone in a separate room upstairs (with his templar guard), but they’d always managed to find him. It was a guarantee that every year, a child would knock on the door and come in, eyes wide. If he was lucky and one of the nicer templars had been sent with him, he used to shoot coloured sparks out of his fingers and send them scattering across the flagstone. The children had laughed, squealed and usually hid behind the templar. They would peek out from behind their armoured legs, nearly dancing with glee.

“I can show you how to make sparks if you’d like. I don’t do bad things. Promise.”

She bit her lip and nodded a bit. “Would that be okay? Mama said…. Daddy hit me. And Uncle Leland….”

He paled. Valour pulsed threateningly. “What did he do?” Thankfully, his voice came out steady. He took hold of her arms.

Dace traced a finger along the bruise on her jaw. “He wasn’t happy.”

“Did they do anything else?”

She looked a bit confused. “No.”

He let go of her arms, so he didn’t risk crushing them in his fearful rage. “We grew up on the same stories. Are you afraid of water?”

Dace stared at him, lips working wordlessly. Then she looked horrified. “No!”

Breathlessly, he crushed his niece to his chest. Thank god. Thank every god. Thank any god. “You don’t have to see them again if you don’t want to. Nobody’s going to hit you again. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I don’t think they want to see me anymore.” Her voice sounded small. She shrank in on herself a bit. “I didn’t mean to do anything bad.”

“How did they find out? What did you do? I promise that whatever it was, it wasn’t bad.”

“A month ago I was trying to do my needlework and I stuck my thumb. And then I got mad and it caught fire.”

“That’s not so bad at all. You know, your mother once got frustrated as a child with her needlework and she threw it into the fireplace.”

Dace looked shocked. “But I did the same thing! I just used magic. I didn’t mean to, it just happened.”

“You want to hear about the first time I used magic?”

She frowned. “Mama said you got mad and hurt Uncle Leland because he wouldn’t take you hunting.”

“Well, that’s not quite true. My brother did go out hunting and I did stay behind. I was a little bit annoyed. I didn’t want to be left out, because I’d been working so hard on my lessons. Your Uncle Leland came back early and the hunting party was very upset. I ran over to see what was wrong and was so scared. Uncle Leland had fallen off his horse and broken his hand very badly. It looked horrible.” He lowered his voice theatrically. “There was blood everywhere and little bones poking out.”

“What happened then?”

“I got so frightened. He was yelling so much that I thought he was dying. All I wanted to do was help him. I used to worship my older brothers and sisters, and I loved Leland the most. I would always be trailing after him.” He shook his head momentarily. “So I reached out with my mind and tried to fix it.”

She looked doubtful. “You didn’t fix it.”

“No, I didn’t. Healing is very hard, and I had no idea what I was doing so it came out wrong.”

“Is that why Uncle Leland isn’t a templar anymore?”

“Yes, that’s why. He can’t hold a shield anymore and if you can’t do that then you can’t be a templar.” He held her arms gently. “You can stay with me if you want, and I’ll teach you everything I know about magic. Would you like that?”

She nodded hesitantly. “Mama won’t change her mind, will she?”

He solemnly shook his head. Dace only sighed. Children were stronger than most people thought they were. She would be fine. Thankfully his family hadn’t had the time to inflict too much damage on her. “Show me where you’re hurt. I’m a very good healer now. I’ve had years of practice.”

She pulled up her shirt to show him a faded bruise across her ribcage. Simon bit back a thrill of rage and reached out with his magic. She watched him heal it with rapt fascination. He healed the bruise across her jaw too. “There are other mage children here, you know.”

“Uncle Leland said I wasn’t supposed to talk to them.”

“Uncle Leland doesn’t get to say what you can and can’t do. Want to stay with them tonight? You can take lessons with them from now on.”

For the first time since he’d seen her, she smiled. “Yes, please.”

Simon led Dace to the cabin in the woods where the mage children were staying. “It’s tight quarters,” he told her.

“I don’t care. I want to stay with them, please.”

He nodded thoughtfully. It would be good for her to spend time with other children with magic. She could see the good things about having magic. Letting Simon take care of Dace might have been the best thing Leland had done in his entire life. When they entered the cabin, he smiled at the sound of a room full of children hastily pretending to be asleep. He called Atvin over and introduced the two. Atvin led Dace away to a place by the fire. Dace smiled shyly at him.

Simon couldn’t help but frown on the way back. “It’s not like my brother to do something nice,” he said to Valour. “Not without strings.”

_:Your brother is cowardly and deceitful.:_

He drew to a halt. “For some reason, I’m a bit worried about going back to my cabin. He knows where it is. And he’s got a bunch of soldiers. I know that he brought them over for the Inquisition, but that doesn’t mean they’re not loyal to him. What if he does something?”

_:Then we will fight.:_

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter. I can’t just fight people in the middle of Haven.”

_:I don’t see why not.:_

“Do you think Dorian will let me stay with him? Leland doesn’t know where Dace is staying tonight. I don’t want him to know where I am either. I just don’t like the idea. I don’t know why.”

Valour shifted in frustration. _:I suppose. I would rather meet him.:_

“Well, I’d rather stay with Dorian and since I’m awake right now that means I get final say. That’s the arrangement, remember? When we’re in the Fade, you get final say and when we’re in the waking world, I do.”

_:I remember the arrangement. Very well. Go cavort with the necromancer.:_

“I will,” he said firmly.

His steps slowed the closer he got to Dorian’s cabin. He stood in front of the door. He stared at the grain of the wood. The door was made of vertical, wooden planks. The wood looked old. It probably was old. The grain looked rough. If he touched it, he might get a splinter. _:It is not too late to leave,:_ Valour said pointedly.

That decided it. Simon knocked on the door with a lot more confidence than he felt. Footsteps sounded from inside and the door swung open. Dorian raised an elegant brow when he saw him standing there. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Hello, Simon,” he all but purred. “What could possibly bring you here in the middle of the night?”

He didn’t expect an answer. Which was good. Simon had momentarily lost the ability to speak. Dorian lounged against the doorframe in his pajamas, which apparently consisted of a pair of silk pants and nothing else _because of course_. His mouth went dry. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He twisted his hands in the hem of his shirt and was vividly aware that he hadn’t planned any of this out. Dorian was stupidly, ridiculously handsome. He was well-muscled too. The hours he spent practicing drills with his staff had left their mark. How had he not noticed this before? It was a definite oversight? His whole body felt hot. His skin felt like it had shrunk and was now too tight for him. How long had he been standing there staring wordlessly? “Um. It’s not the middle of the night. It’s still early.”

Dorian gestured for him to come inside. He did, nervously. Dorian waved a hand and lit the candle by his bed. Dorian climbed into bed and patted the space beside him. “I don’t bite.”

Simon’s face flamed. He knew for a fact that the other mage did bite and that it felt very good. He tried, and failed, not to remember the sting of teeth sinking into his shoulder.

Hesitantly, he sat on the end of the bed. Out of reach. Just in case. “I’m not here for. Um. I need to sleep here tonight.”

Dorian arched a brow and tilted his head. “Moving a bit quickly, aren’t we?”

His whole body now felt hot with nerves. “That’s not.” He had no idea how to finish this sentence. “I just.” How could he possibly explain the knowledge that Leland knowing where he slept was a bad thing? “Dace is sleeping with the other mage children. Leland can’t know where she is. And I don’t want him to know where I am.”

Dorian’s brow furrowed. He drew in a steadying breath. “Why not?” His voice didn’t quite sound right.

So he didn’t try to drown her in a fucking fountain. “Don’t ask questions. Please. Just let me stay here.”

“I … Of course. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Simon gusted out a sigh of relief. “We can share the bed, don’t worry. I don’t care.”

“Do you want to borrow some sleepwear?”

He nodded and Dorian dug some clothing out of a drawer. Pants and a shirt. He couldn’t help but smile a bit when he saw that they were silk. “Did you bring all your fancy clothes from home in a backpack or something?”

“Well, I had to bring the important things, didn’t I?”

Simon held the clothing. Dorian was stupidly handsome. He wasn’t. He knew that for a fact. He had never really grown out of being gangly and loose-limbed. Coltish. He had lost weight after he’d left the tower with his dozen Tranquil. It had been hard to find food, and most of it had gone to them. There had been days where he’d eaten spiders out of sheer necessity. He was still regaining the weight he’d lost and although he didn’t look half-starved anymore, he was still painfully thin. Early on, he had tried to go into a village to buy food and supplies. He’d still been wearing his Circle robes. The resulting mob had left enough wounds that even he had had trouble healing himself fully. He had scars from them. He still refused to wear clothing that identified him as a mage and tried not to carry a staff unless necessary. And then there were the times the templars had beaten him into unconsciousness. Other mages had worked on him then, and they hadn’t been half as good at healing as he was. They had left scars too. Simon didn’t normally feel bad about this. It was a good thing to look weak. People underestimated you. They thought that you weren’t a threat. In the tower, looking as harmless as possible was a survival skill.

He didn’t want Dorian to think he was weak.

Thankfully, Dorian got under the covers and shut his eyes. Simon released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. He changed quickly. It felt odd wearing silk clothing again. He’d only worn such fine fabrics in his childhood. Currently, he resisted all of Josephine’s attempts to get him to dress more ‘Heraldy.’

He slipped under the covers, careful to leave a strip of space between them. Dorian opened his eyes and smiled at him.

Simon’s mouth went dry again. “I think I’m a dad now,” he forced out.

Dorian blinked. His mouth worked soundlessly. “Excuse me?”

He laughed and drew the blanket closer to his chin. “Dace has magic. Her power came in a month ago. That’s the real reason my brother came over. Father sent him to give Dace to me. Sort of to get rid of her, you know? I’m taking care of her now.”

“What about her mother?” Dorian’s face had slipped into that polite mask again. It was a noble thing. Simon had seen his family do it enough times to know that. In this case, it probably meant that he was horrified.

“Magic isn’t something to be proud of here. It’s a curse. A taint. My family is very religious. I know it’s different in Tevinter, but over here the Chant basically says that magic is evil. To have a mage in the family is a stain on your honour, especially for a family that’s on a first name basis with most of the Chantry in Ostwick. Every Trevelyan is supposed to serve the Chantry in some way. They weren’t exactly happy to get me. And now they’ve got another. They’re trying to protect the family name. Also they’re assholes.”

Dorian leaned over him to blow the candle out. Simon’s heart caught in his throat at the feeling of the other mage’s leanly-muscled torso arching over him. “Earlier,” Simon continued because he had to talk or else he’d completely lose control of his higher faculties, “they could have just dragged her to a Circle like they did me, but the Circles are gone now. I was basically the only option. If she’s lucky, they’ll pretend that she doesn’t exist.”

“Would she have been with you at the Ostwick Circle?”

“No. They don’t like to put family members together. It’s bad for them if you get a unified force of mages in a tower. They wanted us to be afraid.” Afraid and alone. “Dace and I are the only mages in my family for generations. No idea why.”

Dorian hummed thoughtfully. “Well, we are related.”

Simon shot up. “What?” he demanded, horrified.

Dorian laughed and put a hand on his arm. “Oh, not first cousins or anything like that. Can you imagine? You’re a Trevelyan however, and somewhere in the dank nethers of my family tree there was also a Trevelyan. Perhaps he was even the one who ventured to Ostwick to establish the branch. We are talking long ago, of course.” He drew Simon back down into the bedding.

“How can you just know that off the top of your head?” He eyed Dorian. He still felt alarmed.

“Oh, not the top. Maybe the lower middle whereabouts. Bloodlines are serious business in Tevinter. You’re taught lessons and tested by strict nannies.” Of course he had nannies. “I heard your family mentioned and I had to go through all the old mnemonics, but yes. There it is.”

“Um. Yay?” He felt slightly better about it. Just a little.

Dorian chuckled and released his arm. “Indeed. Yay! I knew there was a reason we look so much alike.”

He couldn’t help but laugh helplessly at that. “We don’t look alike at all. And I’d rather we weren’t related. You _kissed_ me.”

“Depends on which branch of the family you come from. Regardless, I think we’re still good to go. By at least three ages.”

“I can’t wait to tell Leland. He might try to punch you, though. You should probably stay away from him.”

“Nonsense, I need to be there to see his face when you tell him. Why, the very thought delights me.”

“You’re crazy. Tell me a story.”

“A story?” Dorian poked at him. “Just what do you think I am exactly? A walking library?”

“Of course I do. Now tell me a story.”

He did. Simon fell asleep to Dorian’s smooth voice telling him about his childhood. His last hazy thought before dropping off was that he needed to figure out a way to do this more often.

 

Blearily, Simon nuzzled into the warmth. He breathed in and caught the scent of rich spices. Fingers stroked through his hair. He relaxed further, limbs turning loose and languid before he remembered where he was. He stiffened nervously and took stock of how he was positioned to assess the damage. During the night, he had curled into Dorian’s form. Their legs had tangled together. One of his arms had wound across the other man to pull him close and he had just nuzzled into the crook of Dorian’s neck. “Um. Hi.”

Dorian hummed thoughtfully. “You get flustered so easily. It’s adorable.”

He blushed furiously and hid face from view. “Do not.”

Dorian coaxed him out of hiding for a kiss. “Yes, you do.” He slipped away and yanked the covers back. “Up. Out of bed. I’m sure you have Herald business to attend to.”

He groaned at the onslaught of cold air. He pulled himself out of bed. “I really should check on Dace. I’m sure Atvin kept her up all night with stories or something. Maybe I should see her in the Fade too.”

He belatedly realized that Dorian was changing, because of course he was. Simon tried to stay calm and kept his gaze firmly fixed on the sheets. “How are you going to do that? You’re not secretly a somniari, are you?”

“What? No, but Solas is. He could probably help. He said something interesting about spirits earlier. That they were just reflections of what we expect to see. So if we go into the Fade expecting to meet demons, we probably will. Maybe if I teach Dace to welcome spirits instead of demons, it would be helpful.”

Dorian paused. “An interesting thought, but that could be very dangerous.”

“It’ll be fine.” Valour thought it was a good idea. In truth, he would do it without Solas. Maybe he could say that he’d changed his mind and that was why he hadn’t asked Solas. Valour was a spirit and could travel the Fade easily. Usually, Valour wanted to stay in his patch of Fade at night, but occasionally the spirit would take him exploring and they would see valourous deeds being performed. Valour had never taken him into the dreams of another person, but it shouldn’t be that different.

“I’m not entirely certain our friendly hobo apostate would agree to it.”

He shrugged. “Neither am I, but you never know.”

Dorian winked. “Well, you should hurry. Wouldn’t want anyone to know you spent the night here, would we?” He slipped out.

Simon stared after him in abject confusion. _:Do not expect me to explain his actions,:_ Valour said. _:All mortals are strange to me.:_

“To you and me both.” Dorian was probably worried about his brother finding out. Leland really wouldn’t have been happy about this. Not that he had a say in any of this. “I’m free now. That means I can live my own life. Nobody can tell us what to do anymore.”

The spirit hummed in agreement.

Simon dressed in the clothes he’d worn yesterday. He folded the borrowed pajamas neatly and placed them in Dorian’s knapsack. He wasn’t entirely sure what drawer they had come from. “Why is that everyone has furniture except me?”

_:If you want furniture, go ask for it.:_

“I don’t really. I’m happy with the crates of elfroot and the ravens. I’m just saying that it’s weird.”

Dace, it turned out, was already up. He found her running around Haven with Amalie and Katja. He watched them playing. It was some game involving sticks, that much was certain. Dace threw sticks at the other two children and they laughed and ducked around scowling, exasperated workers. Every now and then, a stick would bounce off a barrier. Ah. That was the game. Simon approved heartily. The templars had hated it when they played with magic in the tower and had always watched them even more closely whenever they did. But the templars here didn’t seem all that worried about it. Certainly, they watched. But not with razor focus that he was used to seeing. There may be a war going on, but things were already better for mages.

Simon frowned a bit and sat on a bench to watch his niece (adopted daughter?) playing. What would they do after the Breach was sealed? Right now, he was useful. Right now, they needed him. But after? There was Corypheus, but Cassandra had an army behind her now. She could easily deal with that. Sure, he had helped get the mages, but they were loyal to the Inquisition now.

There were other things he could be doing after the Breach was sealed. They wouldn’t really need him after that. He was the only one who could seal rifts, though. He examined the mark on his palm. Currently, it was quiet. Nothing like when he sealed a rift. When he did that, the mark split open and shot out tendrils of grasping, green light. It wasn’t exactly comfortable. Right now, it just looked like a peculiar green scar. Valour was worked up about the Breach now, but what about the smaller rifts? Those were hurting spirits too. He couldn’t imagine that Valour would just let him do nothing about them. He wanted to seal them, anyways. It needed to be done and he was the only one who could do it. It was sort of his duty, wasn’t it?

Valour pulsed reassuringly. The spirit’s soaring pride rushed through him. It hummed through his blood like a song. Perhaps after he sealed the Breach, he could take Dace away with him. The two could travel the world sealing rifts. Honestly, he hoped that shutting the Breach would seal the smaller rifts as well, but it probably wouldn’t. Still, it was good to hope.

“Maleficar.” Leland’s sharp voice broke his train of thought. Leland stalked towards him. “Dace is awfully loud for a Tranquil, isn’t she?”

A cold finger of ice crept down his spine. “What?”

Leland gestured at her. She caught sight of him and, thankfully, pulled her friends away. They vanished behind the tavern. “The Rite of Tranquility. I thought that you had performed it last night. I went to your cabin to offer my aid with the rite, but you weren’t there. I assumed that you were doing the right thing.”

“The right thing?” He felt as though someone had scooped out his guts and hollowed him out inside.

“Of course. The Circles are closed. What else are we supposed to do? We can’t have another mage in the family. One is bad enough.”

Slowly, Simon rose to his feet. Valour vibrated in his mind with righteous fury. He sank his fingers into Leland’s chantry robes and yanked him close with a hiss of rage. The spirit exulted. “How could you say that?” he snarled. “How could you ask me to do that? She’s your _niece_. She’s _family_. She’s a _child_.” His fingers curled into claws. His brother struggled uselessly. “There is nothing wrong with her. You want me to turn her Tranquil? How could you want that?” He shook Leland fiercely until he stopped squirming.

“I-“ his brother started.

Simon ignited. Valour’s power flooded him. Blue light spilled from his fingers and engulfed him in a wave of strength. He bodily lifted Leland from the ground. His brother’s feet twitched and flailed. His face contorted with terror.

“This isn’t a joke,” Simon hissed. “This isn’t a game. Tranquility is evil. It is crushing her soul to dust. It is stripping her to away to nothing. It is a conscious state of death. I don’t understand this. Valour was right. You are a cowardly, cruel, dishonourable man. Get out. You will not hurt her. You will never hurt her the way you hurt me.”

He dropped his brother like a sack of bricks. Leland scrambled away, breath coming out in short gasps. “Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world or beyond.” He clung uselessly to the words as though they were a talisman that might protect him.

He watched his brother tremble. He’d never looked so weak. _:Pathetic coward,:_ Valour said smugly. _:Not like us. We are strong. We are one.:_

“ ‘You have chosen, and spilled the blood of innocence for power. I pity your folly, but still more do I pity those whose lives you have taken in pursuit of selfish goals.’ See? I can quote things too.”

Leland shook his head. “But that’s from the Dissonant Verses. That’s not-“

“I don’t care. Get out. Dace is a ward of the Inquisition now. You will never see her again. Tell father that she’s dead to the family now, and so am I.”

His brother lurched to his feet. “You’re going to make her like you.” His voice shook.

Simon nodded. “And she will be glorious. Get out.”

Leland staggered back, eyes locked on him as though Simon might lunge for his throat at any moment. With a grunt of effort, he pulled Valour’s power back into himself. The blue light emanating from him snuffed out like a doused flame. His blood still sang with it. He heard it rushing through his ears.

Leland shook his head. Simon couldn’t bother to parse the emotion in his eyes. It might have been fear. It might have been sorrow. “I am sorry that I couldn’t cure you.”

“Sticking my head in a fountain is not a cure for magic,” he hissed. Valour’s power threatened to spill out of him again. He yanked it back viciously. The spirit hissed furiously. He felt like a cup about to overflow.

“You’ve changed, little brother.”

“Freedom will do that to you.”

Leland shook his head and slowly walked out of Haven. Simon watched him go. The crowd of gawking onlookers parted before him like a wave. Varric approached him, face grim. “Well, shit.”

“My brother is a shit. I’m out of here.” At Varric’s nervous expression, he added. “Relax. I’m just going into the woods. Get me when the lyrium’s here. I just want to seal the Breach and get out of here.”

Varric patted him softly on the back. “Alright, Glowbug. Stay close, you hear me? Cassandra’s not going to be happy about this.”

Simon bit back the instinctive retort that Cassandra could suck his fucking dick. “I need to be alone.”

He swept from the camp like a storm piercing through a clear sky. People nearly scrambled to get out of his way. He didn’t care. Valour sang in his ears in exultation and all he wanted was to be alone with the spirit. He needed solitude more than he needed air. Once he cleared the gates, he broke into a run. Someone – maybe Cullen, maybe The Iron Bull or Krem or a random soldier, it didn’t matter – shouted after him, but he didn’t bother looking back. He fled from the scene of his outburst as though he’d just murdered someone in cold blood.

When he got a stitch in his side and became lost in the trees, he flung a warding glyph onto the ground. Simon layered warming and repulsion glyphs on top of it. “Do you think anybody realized what I just did? That I released your power so visibly? Do you think anyone recognized that for what it was?” Only if someone had already seen a mage become overtaken by a spirit living inside his body. So perhaps Varric. But maybe not. He’d heard that the mage Anders had been possessed by a spirit of Justice (or maybe Vengeance?) but people said a lot of things. He had never been one to put stock in rumours. And he hadn’t actually read Varric’s book yet. It wasn’t the sort of book they allowed in the tower of Ostwick and ever since the Circle fell he hadn’t exactly had time for books. He’d been more concerned with keeping his group of Tranquil alive. And his stint as the Herald of Andraste didn’t leave much time for reading either. He should probably get around to reading it. Eventually, he would. Currently, he only wanted to sink into the Fade and commune with Valour.

The spirit welcomed him with open arms, thrumming fiercely in delight at his act of courage. He fell bodily into the Fade and dimly felt his body collapsing onto the snowy ground.

In the twisting paths of the Fade, Valour cried out in victory and stabbed upwards with his sword. “We have stood against the enemy that has threatened us for ages! Today is a day of victory.”

Simon fell into the spirit’s armoured form. Valour caught him with his free hand. “It hasn’t been ages, but it’s certainly felt like it.”

“Yes.”

 

Simon cursed. He checked the connection his body. Someone was shaking it. Furiously, he ripped himself free from the Fade. He shot awake with a gasp and struggled. Large hands released him immediately and he fell back into a muddy slush. His chest heaved and he stared at the concerned group kneeling by him. The Iron Bull pulled him to his feet. Varric had his crossbow out. Simon looked at it pointedly. “What? You know there are wolves out here, right?” Varric said.

“That is not important,” Cassandra said firmly. “Herald, we have the lyrium. It’s time to seal the Breach.”

Solas examined the glyphs he’d inscribed onto the ground carefully. He traced one of the marks. “Intriguing work, but pointless without further practice. Your repulsion glyph was far too easy to dismantle.”

“Is sleeping in the woods a mage thing?” The Iron Bull asked.

Simon waved away the question. He was fully prepared to be forced out once the Breach was sealed anyways. “Sure. Let’s go seal that fucker. It’s hurt enough people.” He stared grimly at the scarred whirl in the sky. It tore through the clouds like a toothy maw. Valour pulsed happily.

_:It is time! Let us go forth and destroy it!:_

“Sure thing,” Simon said. “Let’s go get it.”

He led the way back to Haven.


	5. Valour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valour learns that he hates the snow and Simon learns that sometimes people don't want to kill you on principle.

“Get back you here, you mangy beast!” Dorian snapped a barrier around himself.

Dace rushed forward. “You’re scaring Mittens.”

Honestly, Dorian had never really spent time with children. Dorian tapped his foot. When the warning bells had started, Dace had shot off towards Simon’s cabin. Simon had sent Dorian after her. Dace had first rushed around the cabin like a tiny, compact hurricane. She had thrown various items, books and clothes into a knapsack and slung it over her shoulder. Then she’d turned her attention to the cat hiding under the bed.

Before Dorian could stop her, Dace scrambled under the bed like an eel. The cat screeched and he heard the distinct sound of a small girl dragging a furious cat out from its hiding spot. She squirmed out backwards holding on to the cat firmly by the waist. The thing hissed and dug its claws more firmly into the floor. She stood up and ripped it free. It twisted in her arms and clung to her, tail thrashing wildly. She could have let go and the cat would have hung off her like a gauche necklace.

She stroked it soothingly. “Uncle Simon said that I should stay with you during the fighting, Lord Pavus. Where are we going?”

Dorian realized that she was trembling. Awkwardly, he patted her on the shoulder. “Well, we certainly can’t stay here. Never a dull moment in the south, is there?”

Thankfully, she smiled a bit and nodded. Dorian cracked open the door. He wove a barrier over Dace when he saw the chaos. Screaming people rushed every which way as though running could save them. Red templars ran after them with gargled screams. Several of them had warped into horrific lyrium-studded monstrosities that made him nauseous. A warped power emanated from them. “Stay close to me,” he told Dace. “Do you know any spells?”

She shook her head, pale with fear. Vishante kaffas. Of course she didn’t know any spells. This was the south, where mages were locked up and told to fear what they were. Dorian had been enrolled in intensive lessons as soon as his magic had come in, but of course the south would be different. He had always thought that how the south dealt with magic was bizarre, but it was moments like this that made him angry. “I set my needlework on fire once,” she offered nervously.

“Well, that’s something at least. If any of those horrific louts gets close, just try setting it on fire. Then leave it to me.”

Her nostrils flared. She nodded firmly. “I’ll try. Is Uncle Simon okay? Do you think he’s hurt?”

Dorian knelt so that he was eye level with her. He reached out to put a hand on her shoulders, but Mittens swiped at him. He hastily snatched his hand back. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. Your Uncle is just fine.” Hopefully. He had, after all, dove right out of the gates to get the trebuchets working. The fighting was probably the most concentrated there. He smiled at the trembling girl. “He’s one of the strongest, most creative mages I’ve ever met. He’ll be just fine.”

Dace said, “Okay. You’re right. He’s possessed, right? Everyone says so. His demon will protect him.”

Frankly, he had no time to correct her. They needed to move. “Well, I’ve got a few demons of my own.” He slammed the door open and they stepped out into the chaos of battle. He slammed the butt of his staff into the ground and unleashed demons of fear on the red templars that swung their encrusted heads towards him. They shrieked and fled.

Dace held the cat firmly. A knot of fighters stormed into view, flinging arrows and magic everywhere. Several of them lashed out with swords and maces. Simon twisted out of the knot and ran towards him. The blade on his staff was slick with blood. His face was coated in soot. “I’m so glad you two are okay. Get to the chantry. They’ve got a dragon!”

The aforementioned dragon swooped overhead, belching fire onto the few buildings that hadn’t already been set alight. Simon paled. “Shit, I think that was the tavern. I have to deal with that. Get to the chantry. Now!”

Dace stepped forward, cat still hissing in her arms. “Uncle Simon, what about-“

“Stay with Dorian. He’ll keep you safe.” He grabbed wildly at Dorian’s shoulders. “You protect her, you understand me? No matter what happens you don’t leave her alone. Not for a second.”

“She’s safe wi-“ Simon smashed their mouths together in a clumsy kiss. Dorian froze with shock. Simon pulled away and ran off. He might as well have just sucked Dorian’s wits out through his lips. He stared dumbly after the retreating mage. Every now and then, Simon lashed out with his staff to unleash a hex on a reeling enemy or a thread of healing magic towards a wounded ally.

Dace tugged on his arm to get him moving again. Mittens decided to help by sinking its claws into him. He led the young girl to the chantry. Along the way, he did his best to duck around the worst of the fighting. At one point, a dying red templar had fallen directly into their path. Dace had promptly shrieked and set it on fire. The cat wailed in her arms and clung to her so tightly that its claws sunk into her flesh and broke skin.

He swept her up the chantry steps with his staff and herded her into the back. Cullen and most of the inner circle were already there. They stood, bodies coiled tight with tension, just inside the chantry to defend it. Terrified people darted into the chantry’s safety. Dorian wanted to stand with the defenders, but he made sure that Dace stayed put in the back instead. The candles stuck onto the floor had guttered out. Cullen roared commands.

Josie rushed over, clipboard nowhere to be seen. “Wonderful, you’ve found Dace. All of the other children are accounted for, but we haven’t seen the Herald yet.”

“He’s coming, Lady Montilyet,” Dace said. “His demon’s protecting him.”

At that moment, Simon burst into the chantry with the last of the stragglers. Cullen slammed the doors shut and barred them. Dace ran over to him. Dorian trailed after her.

“There’s no other way,” Simon was saying. “I can do it. It’ll be alright.”

Cullen sighed. “We can send people with you to make sure you get to the trebuchets.”

Simon shook his head. He looked infuriatingly calm. “No. I don’t need them.”

“You can’t possibly,” Cullen snapped, “make it through that horde on your own.”

“You’re wrong.” Simon swore savagely. Dorian was impressed. He didn’t know that Simon even knew such foul words. “Look, I don’t care anymore. If it’ll stop you from sending people along with me to die then fine. I always wanted to tell someone before I died, anyways.”

“Died?” Dace’s voice ratcheted up in pitch. She squeezed the cat until it made an odd, wheezing sound.

Simon turned to her. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t hold her that tightly, though. Here.” Simon plucked the cat from her arms and put it in one of the spare empty raven cages that Leliana left lying around the chantry for lay sisters to trip over. Dace took the cage from him. Tears clung to her lashes. “Dace, I have to save everyone here and the only way to do that is to bury this place in an avalanche. Roderick knows about a secret path that the rest of you are going to take to escape into the mountains.”

“But we were going to go away together. You said. You said that after the Breach was shut they wouldn’t need you anymore and we could go away. We were going to go around closing rifts and learning magic. You _promised_.” Simon leaned in to whisper something into her ear. Her lashes fluttered shut and her breathing calmed. She nodded slowly. Dace dropped the cage – Mittens hissed furiously – and clung to her uncle.

Dorian felt rooted to the spot. “ _What?_ ”

Simon ignored him. “I’ve got a job for you, Dace. I need you to take care of Roderick with Cole, okay? I didn’t have the time to heal him fully, but he should be alright.” He straightened. “I can go out alone. Nobody else is dying today.”

“Maybe you’ll find a way. You might survive,” Cullen said. It was clear that he didn’t believe it.

Simon smiled sadly. He shook his head and disentangled himself from his niece. “Nobody is coming with me.” He began to glow with a cool blue light.

He unbarred the chantry doors and darted outside. Cullen cursed. The advisors and inner circle charged after him. Dorian left Dace behind to follow. The chantry doors slammed shut after them. Simon sighed and turned around. “Honestly,” he said. “You guys are making this whole self-sacrifice thing harder than it needs to be.”

Simon stood there calmly. The surrounding buildings burned. The dragon screamed overhead. Soon the red templars would notice them and swarm them like ants. “Most of the rumours were wrong,” Simon said, as though none of these serious issues was a concern. “But one of them wasn’t. When I was fourteen, I merged with a spirit of valour. I’m an abomination.” What skin they could see cracked. Blue light burned out of the cracks like fire.

Cullen gasped and drew his sword. Varric groaned. “Well, shit.”

Dorian could only stare. Blue fire burst into life at Simon’s feet and licked at the hem of his robes. “Valour is a warrior spirit, so trust me on this. I can do it alone. Now get out of here.”

Simon whirled around and rushed into the burning village. They stared after him. “We don’t have time for this,” Leliana snapped. “We need to escape. Now.”

 

When they had fled far enough, the whole group collapsed. They had been moving for hours. Throughout it all, Dace and some odd boy helped Roderick along. Somehow, Dorian had ended up holding Mitten’s cage. The puffed up beast shivered and hissed at him, but he didn’t want to put it down. The cat and Dace were the only parts of Simon that were left.

Simon. The Herald of Andraste. An abomination. It didn’t seem possible. Although it did explain some things. He had always been a puzzle that Dorian had wanted to solve. Learning that he was an abomination changed everything. It felt like he had been trying to put together a puzzle that turned out to really be one of those awful 3D ones that his mother liked so much. It answered several questions – Simon’s peculiar attitude towards spirits, his tendency to let his eyes glaze over and stare into the distance as though listening to a voice only he could hear, that peculiar blue glow that had emanated from him when he’d thrown his brother out of Haven – but raised a thousand more.

How did it work exactly? Had Simon been forcibly possessed? Why would he trust a spirit that way? How had he even met a spirit of valour? How had he hidden it for so long? Why wasn’t he crazy? As a rule, abominations were deformed, insane creatures but Simon was nothing like that. Dace was the only one who wasn’t confused, shocked or horrified. “I don’t know why everyone’s making a big deal of it,” she told anyone who would listen. “Everyone said he was possessed with something. Didn’t you believe them? Although they got details wrong and it’s not a demon after all. I think my family got a lot of details about Simon wrong.”

Solas asked what stories her family told about the deceased Herald. The inner circle and advisors had retreated a small distance away from the bulk of scared, exhausted people around them to discuss what to do. As one, they stopped their circular arguments to listen.

She smiled. “He’s not dead. He’s got the spirit to protect him, doesn’t he?” She looked nervously at her audience. “I like him. He’s a good person. He’s not in trouble, is he? Didn’t he save us from the templars?”

“Red templars,” Cullen said gruffly.

Cassandra opened her mouth, but Leliana promptly stepped on her foot. She went to the child and smoothed her hair back. “He’s not in trouble. We’re only confused. Tell us the stories you heard, please. What details did your family get wrong about Simon?”

The spymaster smiled soothingly as though she honestly just wanted to hear stories. As though they weren’t currently deciding what they should even do about this revelation.

“Well,” Dace said slowly. “Uncle Leland says that Uncle Simon ruined his arm on purpose, but Uncle Simon says it was just a mistake and that he was scared. It was the first time he did magic and he didn’t want his brother to die.”

Now that was interesting. Back home, people loved to boast about their first act of magic. He couldn’t remember very many stories about healing. There were many stories about smaller things like changing the colours of a flower or shooting out sparks. The most prized stories were things like fireballs or calling lightning down. Dorian himself had called down lightning and ruined their garden.

“Grandfather said that he killed Lady Moore’s baby, but I don’t think so.”

“Maker’s breath,” Cassandra said. “This is the man we’ve been protecting?”

“He probably didn’t,” Dace shot back.

Leliana’s gaze sharpened. “How could he possibly have done that? He was in the Ostwick Circle.”

“He’d come back for Aunt Lucille’s summer ball,” Dace said. “One night he snuck away from the templars and Lady Moore lost her baby that night.”

“I doubt,” Solas said, “that a spirit of valour would let its host kill a child.”

“I never saw him at those parties,” Josie said. “I attended every one.”

“I know,” Dace said. “I saw you too, but Simon was kept upstairs in a locked room.” She paused thoughtfully. “Once in the cellar. Sometimes my cousins and I would see him and he’d show us sparks and things. He turned Mama’s dog purple once. The templars got really mad about that.”

Josie cast about for a chair to sit on. She sighed and put her head in her hands when she remembered that there were no chairs just randomly strewn across the mountains.

“What about the possession,” Leliana asked. “What do you know about that?”

“I don’t know. People were always saying he had a demon in him. He was magic. He told me that he had a valour spirit in his body before he left.” She gestured to her ear. “That’s what he whispered to me. I don’t think he wanted you to know. That’s all I know. Honest.”

Sera shuddered. “This is friggin creepy.”

“It’s more than that,” Cassandra snapped. “He had every opportunity to tell us and he hid it. He lied to us.”

“One wonders why,” Dorian muttered.

Varric held up his hands. “Hey, seeker. He saved us all from that crazed army. Remember that? Besides, he’s a lot more stable than Anders.”

“Anders blew up a chantry,” Cullen snapped. “We can’t trust him. How can we? Who knows what that demon wants? At any moment it could take over.”

“It’s not a demon,” Solas said. “It’s a spirit of valour. It can be trusted.”

Cassandra turned on the apostate, hand on the hilt of her sword. “Did you know about this?”

“Of course not. How could I possibly have known?”

“Wynne was possessed by a spirit of faith,” Leliana said. “She was the wisest woman I have ever met. Simon has helped us so far. I do not think he is a danger.”

“All of these circular arguments,” Dorian said airily, “are wonderful. Are we going to search for him or just let him freeze to death in a snowdrift somewhere?”

That set them off again. Blackwall, surprisingly enough, volunteered (mostly by shouting over everyone else) to lead a search party.

Cassandra growled furiously. “Where would we even look? How could we hope to find him in all this?” She flung her hands out. The wind screamed around them and threw snow into their eyes.

“We should be looking for him,” Vivienne said coolly. “The Herald of Andraste is an important symbol. We need him. The people love him. It goes without saying that his weakness must be kept secret.”

“Nobody beyond us,” Leliana said in a voice that cut sharper than knives, “will know that he is possessed. This knowledge will not spread. Do you understand?”

Dace tugged on his arm. “I’ve got his phylactery. Does that help?”

Leliana strode forward and snatched it. “Where did you get this? I gave it to Simon ages ago.”

“It was in his cabin. He said I should get it when the fighting started in case something happened. This counts, right?”

“Well,” Leliana said tartly. “That settles it.”

 

Valour pushed through the snowdrifts. They were cold. He had never felt cold before. The sensation was unpleasant, but fascinating. It was also frustrating. He tried to will the snow away and it would not go. It was very stubborn. Perhaps if the snow was too stubborn, the air would harden and allow him to walk over it. It refused. The world that he moved through would not bend to his will. It was a small miracle that his host managed to perform any feats of magic here. Valour stopped and tried to float above the snow, but the body wouldn’t leave the earth.

 _:It doesn’t work that way,:_ Simon said. _:You’ll just have to keep walking.:_

“This is miserable. I do not understand why any of my brethren would come through the Veil if this is what awaits them.” Valour wrinkled the nose experimentally. The flesh and skin moved when he willed it. Why would nothing else? He started walking again. He veered closer to the trees. The wind went around them instead of going through them. It also cut around the body.

_:Thank you for doing this. It does feel weird, doesn’t it?:_

It did. Valour had never taken control of the body before. Why should he? He had been more than happy to observe the mortal world through Simon. Simon had been the one to move about and feel the wind. The experiences were filtered instantaneously through whatever process mortals used to understand them before Valour felt them. In the Fade, Simon walked beside him and they did whatever Valour wanted to. The arrangement was perfect. The bindings between them had been carefully cultivated for years. They had been twisted together for ages. This reversal of how they normally did things was unfortunate, but necessary.

A drop of blood rolled off a finger and stained the snow. He stopped a moment to watch the colour bleed through the white. “The body is leaking.”

_:I used up most of our energy in Haven. I did as much healing as I could when we woke up. The bones aren’t fractured anymore, so I’m calling this a victory.:_

“A victory would have been striking Corypheus’ head from his shoulders. When next we meet, the battle will be glorious. We shall slay the blighted creature and his pet dragon and find the perfect expression of combat.”

 _:That’s the idea.:_ Simon twisted nervously in the spot that Valour normally occupied. _:Do you think we’re doing the right thing by going back? They might try to kill us.:_

“They will welcome us. We bring them honour. They will fight with us, unless they are riddled with mortal follies.”

_:Yeah…. It’s the ‘mortal folly’ part I’m worried about. Even if they drive us off, we need to get Dace. And we should tell them about what Corypheus said.:_

“They will not drive us off. We are strong.”

_:I hope not. I was hoping Cassandra and her army could do something about Corypheus, but I think it’s going to have to be us.:_

Valour caught sight of another campfire at the crest of a hill and went to examine it. The wind and snow continued to hamper him. Perhaps when Simon was stronger, he could will it away. No, when Simon was stronger he would let the insolent mage control the body again. He didn’t like controlling the body. There were many small, fiddly parts to think about and will into working properly. Every movement required multiple muscles to be pulled in a certain order or the motion would falter or take an unexpected path. Valour had already fallen into a snowdrift several times. Not anymore, though. By now, he had gotten better at walking with the body.

The Fade was much better. He stuck the hand into the ashes. They were warm. Uncomfortably warm. They burned the fingers. He willed them to stop attacking him.

_:Oh my god, put the embers down! What are you doing?:_

Valour let go of the embers. They lay there. Smoldering. Recalcitrant. Unrepentant. He willed them to die out. They glowed cherry red. Frustrated, he kicked snow over them. That unbalanced him and he fell over.

“There he is!” A woman cried out. “It’s the Herald.” The spymaster came forward. Valour stood up. Valour looked beyond her and the small team she led. On the other side of the hill, he saw the rest of the Inquisition. They had tents and torches. They had set up camp, despite the inhospitable surroundings.

The team the spymaster led consisted of the armoured man who led the troops, the foul necromancer, the grey warden, the elven dreamer and the fish girl.

_:Don’t call my niece ‘fish girl.’ I know that dace is also a type of fish, but that’s just rude.:_

The armoured man drew his sword. It was a very fine sword. Valour watched its motion with interest. “Maker’s breath, Leliana. Get back! The demon’s taken control of him. We’re too late.”

Valour bristled and sucked in a breath. The cold chilled the lungs. “How dare you accuse me? I am no demon preying upon helpless mortals to steal their essence. I am a being of valour. I am a warrior.” His voice boomed. The cracked light – his essence that suffused the body – pulsed furiously. Blue flames began to lick at his feet.

The dreamer stepped forward. “Forgive us, spirit. The commander is unused to dealing with beings such as yourself.”

Valour realized then that there was a good side to having control of the body. Now that he had control of it, he could feel the fear in the mortals and how they fought against it. Fear lay on all of them, but they did fight. Some better than others.

_:Stop scaring them! We’re trying to get them back on our side, remember?:_

“I am not a being to be frightened of.”

The fish girl darted forward. The foul necromancer snatched at her, but she slipped out of his fingers. She stopped, thankfully, just before tackling him. “Is Uncle Simon in there?” The dreamer lay a hand on her shoulder before she could speak further. He drew her back.

Valour tossed his head proudly. “We are one. We are always here.” He held the wounded hand out to show them the blood. “The body is damaged. It requires attention. I cannot will it whole.”

“I can assist you,” the dreamer said and stepped forward. Valour watched with interest. The dreamer called power from the Fade and wove it in a net of healing magic around the body. While Valour had not managed to will the flesh whole, the dreamer managed it. Valour examined the sealed flesh on the hand. It was not split open and leaking anymore. The muscles were still tired and weak. Although technically whole, it held little strength.

“Are you well enough to have it back?” he asked Simon.

_:No. You’re doing a great job, Valour. I think it’s going to be okay.:_

“Either the spirit’s gone insane,” the foul necromancer said, “or it’s talking to Simon.”

Valour knew that mortals manipulated the facial muscles to express emotion. He tried to express irritation. Certainly, the muscles twisted and shifted. He was not sure he had managed it correctly. He tried to move them a different way.

“Definitely insane,” the necromancer said.

“I am showing my emotional state by using muscles,” Valour told him seriously.

“And it’s a wonderful effort,” the dreamer said. “Can we speak to Simon?”

“You’re a very funny spirit,” the fish girl said. “I don’t know why everyone was so worried. You seem very nice.”

“Of course I am nice. No, you may not speak with him. The insolent mage is too weak to move the body. I am strong so I am now controlling it. I have moved us here so we would not perish in the mountains. We have fought snow and wind to get here. They were obstinate, but we have prevailed.” Valour pointed back the way they had come. “At first, he controlled the body, but turned too weak and addled to channel my energy to heal himself. We agreed that I would take us to the Inquisition. He feared you would turn us away, but I assured him that such actions would be driven purely by mortal follies and so were unlikely. We have fought together.”

The grey warden said, “Cullen, put the damn sword away. It’s friendly enough. Besides, the Herald’s stuck in there somewhere.”

The armoured man grimaced, but complied. “Is there a way to separate them?”

Valour bristled again. He felt Simon’s surge of panic. “NO! The insolent mage is mine. His will is unquestionably strong. We perform acts of valour. We seek the expression of pure combat. You cannot tear us apart. We will not allow it.”

The dreamer hummed and his brow quirked. “They are friends, commander.”

“Friendship is a mortal concept. We are bound together. It has been such since he was weaker. He is stronger now. He strengthens daily. We are one.”

“It would be very difficult to separate them, commander, and attempting it would be unwise. Simon said they have been merged since he was fourteen. I doubt that he would allow you to take the spirit away.”

“Neither of us would allow it. We are one.” The fish girl wrapped her arms around him. Valour startled and fell over. The fish girl fell with him and managed to land right on the body’s stomach. He tried to will the snow away, but it would not listen. “This world is intolerable,” he shouted. “Why do you remain here? You should live in the Fade, where things listen when you speak to them. Everything here is unspeakably ill-mannered.”

“The living world is different,” the dreamer said. “You cannot will things into changing here.”

Valour sniffed and picked the body out of the snow. “The insolent mage says the same, yet he wills things into changing. I do not see why I cannot. Perhaps with practice I will manage it, but I am unwilling to remain in control of the body. I will allow the insolent mage to take it back once he is recovered.”

“You call Simon ‘the insolent mage’?” the necromancer asked.

“That is what he is, but his will is unquestionably strong so I do not take offence.”

They began walking back to the encampment.

“So, Valour,” the spymaster said. “Will you be comfortable staying in a tent while you recover?”

“It will serve.”

The fish girl grabbed his hand and matched her pace to suit his. Valour marveled at the mastery she must have had over her body’s muscles to accomplish such a feat. Simon hovered in the forefront of his mind. He worried. Valour could not see why. They were going to the encampment. They would remain a part of the Inquisition, seek Corypheus and strike him down.

The necromancer came to walk beside him. “So, how does this possession thing work exactly? Are you always in his head watching?”

Valour wrinkled the nose. He was good at that. “We are one. I am always aware of what my host is doing, although I do not always have an interest in actively observing.”

_:I really wish you wouldn’t call me your host.:_

“That is what you are. Be silent and gather your strength.”

“Oh, are you talking to Simon now? How does that work? Can you always speak with each other?”

Valour wished that Simon carried a weapon with him. He tried to will one into being, but couldn’t. The world around him remained infuriatingly stubborn. “We are bound together. It is a simple matter to communicate.”

“What did he say?”

“He objected to my terminology, even though it was technically accurate.” Valour turned the full weight of his stare on the necromancer. He could feel how the Fade twisted slightly around the necromancer. They truly did feel different than other mages. “You ask many questions.”

The necromancer grinned and spread his hands wide. “I’m curious about you. I had no idea something like you was possible.”

“Abominations,” the armoured man said firmly, “are supposed to be monstrous. Not friendly. I’ve never seen a friendly one.”

“Perhaps they did not co-operate the way my host and I do. My host was meticulous in his work when he bound us together. It took many sessions of work before he was satisfied.”

The dreamer made a sound of interest. “So, it was not your choice?”

Valour snorted. “No mortal could bind me unwillingly! We agreed that merging together would be mutually beneficial.”

They reached a tent set apart from the others. The spymaster ushered them inside. The small man waited inside. He whistled lowly when he saw them. “Well, shit. You okay there?”

_:You know that everyone around you has names, right? I know that you know that. That’s Varric. It’s okay to use names, Valour.:_

“Simon is fine. The spirit of valour has taken over while he is recovering. He’s very weak right now,” the dreamer said. The grey warden left the tent, presumably to spread the news. Simon panicked a bit at that.

_:How many people know? Have they told everyone? I don’t want to be mobbed.:_

“Simon wishes to know,” Valour said, “whether I am common knowledge. How many people have been informed?”

“Just the inner circle and the advisors. We’re keeping it a secret.”

“That is good. I do not want my host to be treated poorly as he fears.” Valour lay on the cot so that the body could rest. If he did not have to focus on holding it upright, perhaps it would recover faster. Dace knelt at his side. The others sat on the floor and watched him. The small man pulled out parchment, an inkwell and a quill. He began to write.

“We would rather that Simon stay in the Inquisition,” the spymaster said seriously. “We need him now more than ever.”

Simon shifted nervously. “See?” Valour told him. “You should heed my words more often. I was correct.”

“Can you feel him now?” the foul necromancer asked. His eyes glinted with excitement.

“Of course.”

“Why did you decide to merge with Simon?” the dreamer asked. “Most spirits have no interest in this world.”

Valour discovered that the throat could make a humming noise. “I hadn’t any interest in this world before I met the insolent mage. The other mages had devised a cowardly test for him to perform and I watched. He sought my aid in defeating the demon that had been called to kill him. At first I would not grant it, so as to avoid dishonouring him. I sought to test his mettle in combat but he argued with me and I discovered that despite his insolence his will was unquestionably strong. Sure of his success in the coming battle with the demon, I granted him one of my weapons. Afterwards, I sought him out in the Fade. We spoke many times and I became curious about the world he inhabited. He performed acts of valour and I wished to experience the mortal world. The decision to merge was mutual.” He looked at the armoured man. “Have you willed that weapon into being? I cannot manage it. Tell me how.”

The armoured man winced and stroked the hilt of his blade with a finger. The spymaster laughed delicately. “Yes, Cullen. Tell him how.”

“It’s only a sword,” the armoured man said. He shifted uncomfortably. “I got it from the armoury. I don’t know anything about magic.”

It was clear that the man was frightened. It was plain to the spirit that he was fighting admirably. Under other circumstances he would test the man’s mettle in combat, but the body was too weak for that. _:Do not,:_ Simon said firmly, _:start challenging people to duels in my body!:_

“It was only a thought. The body is too weak for combat.”

“What are you talking about?” the foul necromancer asked again. “What did Simon say?”

Valour made a disgruntled noise. It was fascinating the amount of noises the body could make. “He wished me to not challenge the armoured man while in control of the body.” The armoured man paled. “It is in my nature,” Valour explained, “to test the mettle of those worthy of my attentions. You are a valourous, honourable man. I can feel it. Were I to find you in the Fade, I would test your mettle.” Valour perked up.

_:No! We’re not doing that tonight! Well, we can if you really want to but don’t say anything about it. Please. Don’t talk about fighting. You’re making them edgy.:_

The armoured man shifted in discomfort. “Yes, well….” He sighed heavily. “Maker’s breath. I need to go put some hunting parties together.” He waved a hand at him. “Please, just stay inside.” He left, muttering under his breath.

The tent flap drew open as soon as he closed it. A blond girl poked her head in and said, “Fucking gobshite.” Then she left. A horned man entered.

_:That’s The Iron Bull. Why can’t you use names? I accidentally called you a spirit of courage once and you sulked for a week.:_

“I am not courage,” he said firmly. “I am Valour and I do not sulk.”

The horned man grunted. “Right, then.” The horned man pointed at him. “Herald’s still in there, right?” The others nodded. He shivered a bit. “Ugh. Creepy.” 

_:He’s not going to put this in his spy reports, is he? If the qun sends people after me, I’ll take him down with us.:_

“No one will take our freedom away again,” Valour said. “We would strike them down. My host enjoys being free. I enjoy witnessing the different experience he can now have.”

The small man laughed. “I don’t think the spirit likes you much, Tiny.”

“I do not dislike him. I have no opinion of him. He does not interest me.”

“Good,” the horned man said. 

_:Wow. This is very embarrassing. We’re never doing this again. Honestly, I thought they’d be a lot more stabby. Why aren’t they trying to hurt us?:_

“I have no wish to do this again. This world is intolerable.” The foul necromancer opened his mouth. “I will answer no more questions. I am focusing on recovering.”

Valour settled down and thought very hard about strength returning to the body. He had no success in willing it there. Perhaps as time passed it would occur naturally. He ignored all other movement or noises in the tent. Someone poked him with a stick. Valour pulled himself into the Fade.

 

Simon gasped for breath. He sat up. Dace had fallen asleep curled up on the floor. She was the only one there. He pulled himself to his feet. He still felt weak, but he was so much better. Earlier he’d struggled to lift a finger. He went outside, careful not to wake Dace up. He smiled when he saw that she clutched his phylactery tightly. Someone had strung it on a chain so she could wear it around her neck. She could keep it. Now that he knew he was staying with the Inquisition, he felt much better. Doubtless, some people were angry. It was a small miracle that he hadn’t been lynched. He didn’t entirely trust it yet. Cullen had obviously been none too pleased. Cassandra would probably be furious. As long as Vivienne needed the Inquisition to grow her own power, she was harmless to him. Blackwall had been surprisingly okay with it, although perhaps a bit unnerved. Sera had reacted exactly how he’d thought she would. Varric had surprised him, but perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. The rumours that Anders had been merged with a spirit of justice must have been true. He really needed to read ‘Tale of the Champion.’ He’d get to it eventually.

He went outside to cut through the advisor’s circular arguments. After the startling (but surprisingly welcome) singalong, he spoke to Solas. They spoke of the orb and its origins. He agreed that the orb’s elven origins should stay secret. He already had to stop the mage-templar war. He didn’t need another one too. That thought gave him pause. Had this really become his mess now? Nobody else was doing anything about it. It was the Inquisition’s business, which made it his by proxy since he was a member with a fancy title.

“Are you sure this castle is there, though?” he asked Solas. “I’m just not sure. If we go north and the castle only exists in the Fade then we’ll all die of starvation. We don’t have that many supplies, you know. What if the castle used to exist, but it’s only a ruin now?”

Solas had not been too pleased about these questions. Simon resolved to see if he could find it in the Fade with Valour. Even though he’d just woken up, he still felt quite tired.

“Simon!” He turned to see Dorian walking towards him. “I see that spirit of yours has relinquished control.”

He had mixed feelings about this. He’d already been stupid enough to encourage the other man. Doing it when Valour had been a secret hadn’t been very kind of him. Now that Dorian knew? Well. He doubted the other man would want to touch him now. He should have been disgusted. Furious. But he had only seemed curious and oddly delighted when speaking with Valour earlier. So maybe not angry, but he certainly wouldn’t want to pick up where they had left off. That thought hurt more than he’d expected it to.

“He’s not my spirit,” Simon said uncertainly. “We’re just merged together.”

Dorian’s eyes glittered. “I know! It’s fascinating. How does it work exactly? The spirit, Valour wasn’t it, wasn’t very free with its answers.”

“Valour’s a boy.”

Dorian laughed and shook his head. “Oh, Simon. You do realize that spirits are amorphous constructs, right? They don’t have genders. You can’t really call it a ‘him.’”

Simon blinked in surprise. Why did this infuriating, handsome man always end up surprising him? “I… what? No, spirits are people. I’m not calling him an ‘it.’ Change _your_ pronouns, his are staying.”

They laughed together. It felt incredible. He felt a bit dizzy with the idea that he could still be his friend. That was good. Dorian touched his arm lightly and drew him towards a nearby tent. “Well, if you insist. Now, come along. I’m not letting you out of my tent until you tell me everything.”

He couldn’t help but flush. “I was actually going to scout ahead a bit in the Fade. Solas said there was a castle called Skyhold to the north, but I wanted to have a look before I take us through the mountains.” He let Dorian pull him into the tent. It was smaller than the one he’d been in earlier. There was just enough room for the bedroll and a few sacks. “Um. You can come with me if you want.” He felt his neck grow hot. Wonderful. If he was just going to be friends with Dorian, he’d have to figure out how to get that under control.

Dorian perked up. “How? Wait!” He held a hand out to forestall Simon’s explanation. He hummed thoughtfully. “Let me think. Will Valour be taking us there? And we would just follow him?”

He nodded. “Basically. I’m sure we could take you along. We’ve never tried to go into other people’s dreams before, but I don’t see why not.”

Dorian arched a slender brow. “Not even once?”

“Okay, maybe a few times. But not anybody we knew. Valour gets final say over what we do in the Fade, so he just does his thing and I come along for the ride. Mostly he just likes to work on his drills or weapons. Sometimes we visit the dreams of a valourous person to watch them, but that’s it. It’s just spirit things, you know?”

Dorian laughed wildly. “I don’t. But, I will! Wait, is this why you faint now and then? Valour just pulls you into the Fade and you collapse.”

“Um.” He’d forgotten how relentlessly smart the other mage was. “Yes.”

“And I thought you were sick. Technically, I was right.”

“Well. I guess.” To avoid further embarrassment, he let Valour pull him into the Fade.

They had to wait a bit before Valour perked up and led them to Dorian’s dream. “Come along, foul necromancer. We shall scout to the north and find this Skyhold.”

Dorian looked a bit offended at the nickname. “Well, really.”

Simon resisted the urge to take his hand. “Don’t worry about it. He just doesn’t like necromancers much.”

“I hope you appreciate what I am doing,” Valour said. “I already let you cavort with the necromancer in the waking world. I will not allow you to meet in the Fade again.”

Dorian looked far too pleased at that. “Cavort?”

Simon discovered that it was possible to blush in the Fade. “He’s a spirit, he says weird things. Just ignore it. Can we go?”

Valour led them through the Fade. They walked through twisting paths shrouded in mist. It was so strange having Dorian here like this. In the Fade together. In full view of Valour. Dorian was just traipsing along with him and the spirit possessing him as though it was completely normal. Just a regular afternoon. Like he did this every day. It dizzied him.

They passed the odd wisp or two, but nothing else. Normally it wasn’t a problem if he and Valour met demons in the Fade, but now they had Dorian to worry about. Demons generally weren’t interested in you if you were already merged with another spirit. What would be the point of interacting with you? There was nothing they could take from a possessed mage. It wasn’t as though you could be possessed by multiple spirits. There probably wasn’t enough room. He’d ask Valour about it once they were alone.

In truth, he was glad that Valour said they would never meet Dorian in the Fade again. This felt far too intimate to do again. He felt as though he were showing pieces of himself to Dorian that he could never take back. And it would be cruel to attach himself to other mage. He should have just been grateful that Dorian wasn’t mad at him for leading him on. After all, what sort of life could he give Dorian? He was possessed. Dorian would never want him now. He was far too smart to fall in love with a possessed man. Valour was the reason that Simon had never felt comfortable pursuing a relationship before. How could he, with such a secret?

Besides, he had broken so many rules in the Circle and gotten away with it. Breaking such a big one felt like playing with fire. Simon may have taken a few risks, but he wasn’t completely stupid. He could handle being the other man’s friend. Maybe it wouldn’t even rip him up inside. Then Dorian turned to him and smiled dazzlingly. “So, you do this every night?”

Nope. This would tear him to pieces. He nodded weakly. Valour cried out, “There!” He helpfully pointed the way with his sword. Simon gasped.

The Fade had shaped itself to the snowy mountains that surrounded them in the waking world. Skyhold stood there, nearly brimming with power.

Dorian swore softly. Simon and Valour drew closer, as though pulled forward helplessly. It hummed with magic in the Fade. It looked so solid that he wouldn’t have been surprised if the rest of the Fade dissolved around them. “Do you think it’s there in real life?” he asked Valour.

The spirit nodded. “Undoubtedly. Our task is complete.”

And then Dorian vanished. Simon whirled to face the spirit. “What did you do?”

Valour shrugged. “You wanted the foul necromancer to accompany us to see the castle. We did exactly that. We need not suffer his presence any longer.”

Simon materialized a rock just so he could chuck it in the spirit’s general direction. “I like him! I might even be in love with him! And you just tossed him away. What if he thinks I don’t want him?”

“I do not understand. I could hear your worries clearly while we walked here. You do not think he will want you now that he knows about me. What does it matter if he thinks you do not want him?”

“I don’t know. It just does.”

Simon pulled himself back to the waking world. He scrambled upright. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Dorian was still in the tent. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Hi. Sorry. Valour was. We’ve never.”

Dorian smiled and shook his head. “I imagine he simply got tired of being around a necromancer.” His smile turned coy. “Although, I admit I am a bit disappointed. I had hoped that you could show me exactly how you two are bound together. I’m still very curious about all this.”

Nothing about this made any sense. Nobody was reacting the way they should. It sent a nervous, terrified sinking feeling into his gut. “I don’t understand. How can you be curious? Are you playing a game with me?” His voice turned a touch hysterical at the end.

Dorian paused. His coy smile turned sharp. His gaze hardened. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not stupid. You think I don’t know why everyone’s been keeping Cassandra away from me? She would run me through if they didn’t, that’s why.”

“A game.” Dorian reared up as much as he could while still crouched beside him. “Well if that’s what you think of me, then clearly I’ve been wasting my time.” He turned away.

A thrill of terror shot through him. Simon grabbed his hand. “Wait!” He dug his free hand into his thigh to ground himself. “You don’t understand. This is.” He took a steadying breath. His voice still wavered when he spoke. “I haven’t been hiding this for _fun_ , Dorian. I’ve always had to hide this. I’ve known all my life that if people found out about this they’d kill me. Do you think the templars never killed anyone in the tower? They did. The only reason I survived is because I hid this as best I could and paid a lot of bribes to keep their attention away.” He tried not to sag. He couldn’t look away from the cool mask that Dorian wore. “And now everyone knows and nobody’s tried to kill me yet. People still want me here. They’ll even let me keep a child. And you’re the worst. You’re all…” He released Dorian’s hand and curled in on himself. “I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me.”

The mask broke. His brow furrowed. His breathing quickened. He looked furious. The only reason Simon didn’t squirm away was because he felt frozen to the spot. “Vishante kaffas.” He planted a slender hand on Simon’s chest and pushed him down into the bedroll. Dorian straddled him in one smooth motion. Simon had no idea what to do with his hands. They hovered awkwardly in the air near the mage’s waist. His heart pounded in his throat.

Dorian slowly leaned closer. Simon couldn’t shrink away from the intense, predatory light in his eyes. There was nowhere to go. He thought Dorian would crush their mouths together in a savage kiss. Something with teeth. Something that stung. Instead, Dorian mouthed delicately at his throat. That was worse. That was so much worse. He might as well have ripped his skin open and left him to bleed out.

The fact that it sent sparks singing through his veins didn’t help matters. Because he had absolutely no pity whatsoever, Dorian ran his other hand slowly up the inside of Simon’s thigh and cupped his hard length through his trousers. A low cry ripped out of Simon’s throat and his hips rutted forward helplessly. Dorian chuckled against his skin. “Hush. Hold still,” he whispered.

Simon nodded fiercely and concentrated on staying as still as possible. Dorian’s hand explored him languidly and he scraped teeth down his neck. He couldn’t help whimpering. It would be impossible not to. Luckily, Dorian just smirked wolfishly at him and kissed him sweetly. He lost himself in the feeling. Fire unfurled through him. After an eternity of this, the hand cupping him drew away. He whined at the loss. The altus drank in the sound greedily. Dorian drew back and arched a brow at him. His lips quirked. “Surely you must have some idea of why I’m being so nice to you,” Dorian said lightly. “I’m a very nice person.”

He was a lot more than that. Simon blinked muzzily at him. “Uh huh.”

He smiled softly and shook his head. “Never go to Tevinter, Simon. My countrymen would eat you alive.” He stood up and primly smoothed the lines out of his robes. If not for the flames still tracing through his veins, Simon could have looked at Dorian and not believed this had even happened. There was no evidence at all. It was honestly quite impressive. Dorian cast one more heated look at him before he ducked out of the tent.

 _:Do you think he wants you?:_ Valour asked. Amazingly, the spirit wasn’t being sarcastic. It genuinely wanted to know.

 _:Yes. I’ve figured out why we haven’t been driven away yet. It’s because we’re surrounded by crazy people.:_ Sexy, crazy people in Dorian’s case.

Lost in thought, Simon did his best to put himself together. Then he realized that they’d been doing… whatever that had been in a tent with dozens of people milling about just outside. He blushed furiously and had to wait another few minutes for it to go away.

He left the tent and picked his way over to the advisors. They were engaged in a quiet, circular argument over where to go. They would have to move soon. Preferably now. It just wasn’t safe to remain in the area. They couldn’t camp out here indefinitely. Simon bit back his hesitation and got their attention. “I know where we have to go. There’s a castle to the north called Skyhold. We need to go there.” He waited for their objections. None came.

The advisors nodded. “Very well, Herald,” Josie said. “To the north, you said. That would be…” She pointed with her quill. “Just over that mountain.”

“The brontos won’t have a problem with the terrain,” Leliana said.

“We can have the camp packed up and ready to go in an hour.” Cullen looked around as though already mentally dictating which tents should be dismantled first.

Simon paused warily. “That’s it? You don’t need any more information? Just. Castle to the north. Let’s go?”

Josie went over to him and took his hands earnestly. “No, we don’t need anything else. You’ve given us so much already. We trust you.”

Leliana nodded. “With our lives.”

Simon looked at his three advisors. Even Cullen met his eyes and offered a tired smile. The hesitation died away. Somehow, he believed them. “To Skyhold, then?”

Cullen came over and awkwardly put a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, Herald,” he said seriously. “To Skyhold.”

Simon looked up just as the sun crested the mountain tops. Rays of light scattered across the snow. It glittered in the early dawn. The screaming winds of last night had died down into a cool breeze. He closed his eyes and felt it whisper across his cheeks. Today was a new day. It was all going to be okay from now on. Impossibly, he believed that with his whole heart.


End file.
